


Handle With Care

by thejeeperswife



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Humor, Best Friends, Bodyguard Romance, Brothers, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Lyrium, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, Medical Trauma, Musicians, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Older Brothers, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-02-16 18:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 92,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejeeperswife/pseuds/thejeeperswife
Summary: Cullen Rutherford survived many terrifying events throughout his life: Blight Outbreak, Kinloch Circle, Kirkwall, Mage-Templar War, Temple of Sacred Ashes, lyrium withdrawal, and 2 Qunari invasions. So when his best friend, Inquisitor Rian Trevelyan, asks him to protect his sister, Evelyn, Cullen quickly discovers this will be the most challenging mission of his life. Not only is the geologist-turned-musician reckless and mischievous, she is a gorgeous dancer who enjoys teasing him relentlessly. Evie believes she doesn’t need a bodyguard despite her family, Carta, Orlesians, mages, templars, and stalkers trying to kill her. The commander and his charge struggle to keep their relationship professional, even though both people sense their intense chemistry. Cullen values his brotherly friendship with the Inquisitor, and knows Rian, Esme, and Adelheid Lavellan will hunt him down if something romantic happens. Can Cullen protect Evie from the numerous assassins and get her safely to Orlesian delegation unharmed or should he worry more about the Trevelyan family and not falling in love?Theme Songs:"Free The Animal" Sia“Maneater” Nelly Furtado“Hold My Heart”  Lindsey Stirling, ZZ Ward





	1. Punish Him (Cullen)

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a retelling of Dragon Age: Inquisition, but utilizes events during the game and Trespasser DLC out of sequence and twisted for a fluffy, wacky, and humorous love story with all of our favorite characters. No Breach and no magister/creature Corypheus. Characters are roughly based on my “Fire in Your Eyes” series. (Some people’s personalities, their positions, and Hawke’s gender are changed for a different world space than my original fan fiction. Think of it as selecting a new combination of events in Dragon Keep. Hehe!) Enjoy!
> 
> This story will be updated periodically and is not on a schedule. Subscribe to keep up to date!
> 
> Each (two) chapter is either Evie or Cullen's viewpoint of the same scene or topic. So, if the chapter abruptly ends, that means the next chapter will pick up where the scene ended.
> 
> Note: Skyhold is very near Haven in this story. I know that is not in the game, but just follow my lead.
> 
> Chapter Song:  
> "You Got a Friend in Me" by Cairn String Quartet (Originally Performed by Randy Newman for "Toy Story")
> 
> I love giving my writing "theme songs" that inspired the chapters and story. For the chapter playlists, click here for [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLw4onCkm8zQYvVH2M9BYFNHioDDObJhby) and here for [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/thejeeperswife/playlist/33hH0hu16yb7cK8zvg7J8B?si=dDLvxDQDR66glULiPZXk7A)!
> 
> Make sure to subscribe and follow the playlists and story for new updates!
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments and kudos! Thank you!

****“You are not going to get out of this, Rutherford.”  Rian remarked over his left shoulder.  He pushed his office door open, trying to avoid the blinds banging against the glass and pouring hot black coffee all over his pressed white dress shirt and favorite nug tie.  “The assignment will not change.”

A tall medium-build man followed his boss into the office, nearly ripping the door off the hinges.  His left hand relaxed once hearing Josephine, Rian’s Public Relation Officer, hiss from her Orlesian-inspired office next door.  He waved once to signify he knew and apologized.  With his right hand, he ran his fingers through his disheveled curly blond hair.  He rolled his dress shirt sleeves to his elbows, needing the castle’s cool air to calm his burning skin.  His ear burned hot red as he kept rubbing the nape of his neck to loosen the muscle tension.  He struggled to come up with a suitable excuse not to accept the given orders.

“Look, Trevelyan, when you invited me to head your military personnel, I knew I was joining an organization that constantly beats assassins and mercenaries off with sticks.  You Trevelyans collect them like Leliana adopts nugs.”  The Fereldan accent was husky and rough, especially flustered right then.  He wore a stern face, hoping his disdain was visually apparent.  His employer continued to meander across the large office.  “I knew what I was walking into, and believe or not, it isn’t as difficult as my past military assignments.  However, _this_ is not something I signed up for!”

“It is an easy assignment.”  Rian replied, sitting down behind his desk.  His plush leather chair rolled a few feet back.  He quickly scooted back to his U-shaped desk and wiggled his desktop’s mouse.  The Skyhold office’s whole left and back sides was nothing but floor length windows overlooking the Frostback Mountains.  In the far distance, laid the hamlet Haven and the remains of the holy Temple of Sacred Ashes.  During most interactions, the shouting man appreciated the view to settle his uneasy soul, but right then it twisted him into knots. “You stated yourself that you have handled worse.  This mission will be like when we saved the snowy wyverns from poachers.  You need to relax, dude.”

“That mission got me shot, remember?  You still owe me for that, by the way.”  The Fereldan huffed, slinging himself into one of two leather arm chairs in front of the desk.

Rian winked.  “I thought my friendship was worth a bullet.”

Cullen flicked off his best friend.  “Shove it, Trev.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the growing migraine forming in his skull.  Rian entered his password into the computer and started reviewing emails.  The employer continued his day like the discussion was over.  That just irritated the security officer more.  “Ri, come on.  Why me?  Cassandra handles these type of details all the time.”

“Cassandra cannot and will not take this assignment.”  The boss glanced right, meeting his employee’s eyes.  His own dark grey eyes swirled, a family feature the Fereldan knew quite well.  “Because you are the only one I trust, Cullen.”  His voice was low and somber.  “Only you can keep her safe.”

Cullen rubbed his neck a few more times, leaning forward.  Once stretched, he rested his elbows on cargo khaki pant knees.  His utility belt containing his cellphone, silenced inter-base radio, SOG utility knife, and his prized Colt M1911 pistol rattled with his stretching movements.  He started to understand why his boss demanded he handle the assignment.  “It doesn’t need to be _specifically_ me.  Nothing is going to happen to her if one of my guys accompanies her.  You know Leliana and I work as team:  she through her intelligence network and I with the security personnel escorting everyone assigned to Inquisition.  We will treat her like the rest of the Trevelyan family who work here.  Adelheid, who technically is a weapon herself, is escorted by Ruvena.  Esme the Tech Genius has Lysette, and in some ways his teammate, Cole.  You have Keran.  Hugh would be great for such detail.”

“Rutherford, I will only have you take this assignment.  Do not try to suggestion one of your other top men and women.  It is not that I doubt their capabilities.  Quite the contrary.  You train them better than most militarys, but I will not trust anyone other than you.”  Rian demanded, staring his friend down.

The words fell out of the officer’s mouth before he realized it.  “Ri, no one will tamper with her vehicle or something, if that’s what you fear…”

Rian’s eyes glazed instantly, and Cullen immediately kicked himself.  The Inquisitor sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair.  It lounged back and bounced a few times until he was settled comfortably.  “I know that.  It has been almost thirty years, I can still feel my mother’s blood running down my face.  Oil everywhere from them cutting the break lines.  I am surprised we did not revere off the road when the breaks went out.  Dad loved working on antique cars.  You have seen them in my garage.  The assassins did not know he knew what to do during a vehicular failure.  Heck, he drag raced and almost died flipping a GTO once.  Of course, they followed to make sure the job was done.  When they found us on the side of the road, they decided it was too much hassle to make it look like an accident, so out came the suppressed pistols.  Maker, if I only knew then what I know now, but a ten year old does not know that distinctive clap and hiss after someone squeezes a trigger.  Two head shots and they thought they got my heart, but they missed.”  The man rolled his left shoulder a few times.  His winced when he pulled his scarred bicep; the bullet’s entrance and exit wound ached on cue.  “I fell in such a way so I could crawl underneath and watched…My parents died because my senator father spoke out against the crimes plaguing Ostwick and my mother’s equal rights activism through her law firm.”

Cullen glanced away when he saw that dark stare.  Fuck, he provoked a flashback that could easily break the man.  Between his parents’ death and serving as a templar, Rian experienced such triggers often.  Rian suffered a great deal of his life.  Following Senator Trevelyan and his wife’s death, Rian’s uncle adopted him and raised him as his own.  He joined the special Chantry international military branch, the Templar Order, to serve the common people like his father did as a Free Marcher senator.  With the family wealth, Rian could have bought his commission and rank, but instead, he worked up from an enlisted grunt to the rank of Knight-Commander by the time he was twenty-eight. 

The former knight showed resilience in everything he did, including leading the Inquisition Coalition (IC), an international organization that serves as the security arm for southern Thedas’ international nations, the Thedas Unified Alliance (TUA).  The TUA began first as a way to protect the south from the Tevinter Imperium after the nations freed themselves from its tyrannical grasp.  However, no military force served the whole alliance that could unite the countries in war, leading to infighting.  When the Mage-Templar War reached its apex three years ago, Divine Justinia barely survived the bombing of the Temple of Sacred Ashes and declared IC to serve as a non-border army containing soldiers from all nations.  The coalition acted as the police and military for the Thedas Unified Alliance.  The declaration was not popular.  However after three years of constant battles, espionage, and diplomacy, IC and the TUA stopped the war and even repealed a Qunari invasion.

The feat did not surprise many who knew Rian Brendan Trevelyan.  As the future family leader, he will inherited the Trevelyan mining, shipping, and engineering corporations.  However, he knew through IC he could actually _change_ Thedas and bring the nations together under a common goal of everlasting peace.  IC safeguarded millions of people through aid and support, especially following the Templar-Mage War.  Currently, the organization strived to resolve the Orlesian civil war and stop abuses committed against Thedas’ elven population, including slave trafficking, ethnic cleansing, and destruction of sacred sites.

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have brought it up…You alright?  Didn’t mean to initiate a-”

Rian half waved.  His eyes slowly started to swirl again.  “I know you did not do it maliciously.  Yes, my parents’ deaths play a part.  She means a great deal to me, you know.  I think only my future wife may mean more, _if_ the woman decided to enter my life.”

Cullen cackled.  “You and me both, Trev.”

The commander stood beside Rian since they met in Kirkwall seven years ago.  Cullen also served in the Templar Order, romanticizing their role as a religious borderless military force blessed by the Chantry.  He did not understand the system was archaic and broken as a teenager, just too eager to prove himself.  Following the Kirkwall riots, Ostwick’s Knight-Commander was the first actual relief to arrive with Starkhaven and other Free Marcher forces.  Cullen’s limited and strained forces stood alone for three weeks following the Chantry rebel bombing.  Rian was ten years older than the Fereldan knight, becoming a mentor he could truly look up to after years believing a paranoid Meredith Stennard.  The Ostwick native became his best friend who understood his past struggles and gave him hope. 

When Rian stated he was leaving to the Order and began the Inquisition Coalition with the Divine’s personal support and encouragement, his best friend offered Cullen a position to oversee their military and security office.  Cullen knew it was time to leave and atone of his military actions, vowing to never be bound by anything without knowing his options and giving his personal consent.  To truly break those shackles, the Fereldan templar declared that he would stop taking lyrium, a highly potent and addictive steroid forced on templars to heighten their body’s physiology.  Rian loved and embraced the idea, stating that standing alone the withdraw might kill them, but together supporting each other through the nightmares and symptoms they might set a precedent, a way out for all knights never thought possible.

Inquisition did not just serve as the strong military force in the TUA, but also a protected haven for varies forms of research and relief.  Rian’s decision to stop lyrium, and indirectly Cullen’s, allowed for new studies for breaking lyrium addiction.  Many former templars finally hoped to break free and reclaim their lives.  About a third of Cullen’s security personnel were recovering templars and wished to become _themselves_ again, many of which joined IC during the war and followed the two knight-commanders when they life the Order.  Success have been slow and quite painful, especially for Rian and Cullen, but as each month past, the scientists and doctors learned more than published in over an entire age.

“Is our decision to stop taking lyrium one reason why you’re asking me to do this?”  Cullen asked, eying the leader closely.

Rian cleared his throat.  “A bonus more for you.  She can help, you know.  Her talents may be therapeutic for you.  I know its sooths me.”

Cullen rolled his amber eyes again, sighing.  “You know I like to keep that information private.”

“It is also your worst kept secret.”  Rian drummed, perking a brown eyebrow.  “I might publicly state I am recovering, but everyone around here just looks at you and see the same symptoms and dark-rimmed eyes.  Besides, she is not like Dagna.”  Rian grinned while watching Cullen’s silted eyes.

The security officer groaned, leaning back again and pinching his nose.  “The woman keeps asking for tissue and urine samples…”

A long silence hung in the air for a few minutes.  Cullen stopped speaking to get through an ice-pick headache that attacked suddenly.  His employer just moistened his lips and enjoyed the office’s blissful silence.

“What say you, Lion?”

Cullen flinched hearing his military codename.  Rian’s operative name was “Rider”, reflecting his family’s crest of a white stallion emerging from the sea.  Cullen abandoned his first codename “Mabari” when he was transferred to Kirkwall.  His undisciplined curly hair caused all the lady aristocrats to sway as he passed, so his men called him “Lion.”  Rian only used the term when he wanted Cullen’s military expertise and consent.  The man never pushed him, allowing him to step through the proposed door and agree to special assignments.

“I need more information.”

Rian’s left eyebrow perked again.  “Like?”

“Why isn’t this security detail handled by Trevelyan bodyguards?”  Cullen quizzed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The situation is very delicate.  I did not even suggest it initially.  This came from the Divine herself, but I will not hide I jumped for joy.  In a few months, the TUA will converge on Halamshiral to determine the new monarch in Orlais.  As you know, Orlais is a constitutional monarchy where the emperor or empress holds half of the government’s power.  Many delegates in TUA find the system of governance antediluvian, but the Orlesians are set in their ways.”

“And they call Fereldans barbarians…”  Cullen huffed, rolling his amber eyes.  “I am aware of the masked gala.  Josephine is still negotiating for IC to attend.”

“Not even the Divine can make the Orlesians to see reason and our role in modern Thedas.  Ever since the Orlesian Civil War broke out during the Mage-Templar War, the Inquisition has held little sway over the nation’s aristocracy.  They permit us within their borders because that is the only way refugees get food and aid.”  Rian rubbed his eyes a few times before continuing.  “Where the Inquisition cannot reach, the Trevelyans play a major role.  My uncle, Bann Ian Trevelyan, is a high-ranking TUA member.  Both Gaspard and Celene approached House Trevelyan to act as a liaison between both potential monarchs.  As you know, my family is highly respected throughout Thedas, even in Tevinter.  As aristocrats, the Orlesians nearly see us as fellow upper echelon, except for the whole ‘from the Free March Union’ quaintness.  At this gala, my two sisters, or more accurately cousins, will represent both warring monarchs at the negotiation table.  Patricia will represent Celene Valmont I because her husband is one of her highest supporters and most likely will serve as her chief minister.  Her half-sister Evelyn will stand by General Gaspard de Chalons, not exactly by choice.  Both Divine Justinia and Uncle Ian asked her to perform this task.”

“That is why she needs our protection?  Because she representing Gaspard?”  Cullen assumed, trying to find where his friend was leading with his explanation.

“If it was only that simple…”  Rian sighed.  He sighed deeply.  “Someone is trying to kill her from _within_ the family.”

“Maker’s breath…”  Cullen mumbled, pulling at his stubble chin.  “What happened to Hemmingway and Knotts?  Haven’t they protected her since she was a child?”

“They have several suspects, but they are too thick in the weeds to safely investigate and not tip their hand.  They request an outside viewpoint to stop the threat.”  The Inquisitor groaned and rolled his head along his shoulders. 

“Problems on the home front?”

That made the executive rolled his eyes and huff.  “The day that _nothing_ is not happening in my family, I will know the end is near, grab my ankles, and kiss my ass goodbye.  Even the Maker cannot stop my relatives from being complete asses.”

Cullen rubbed his three-day stubble chin, thinking.  “Your uncle is the head of the whole enterprise.  Why doesn’t he tell everyone to stop?”

Rian leaned forward, his chair squeaking beneath him.  He clasped his hands before really staring at his friend.  “The familial perils are not new.  Many extended relations attempted to murder Evelyn in the past because of her potential birthright.  The family worries about who will inherit my uncle’s corporate cabinet seats in his will.  I can only hold so many seats, and Esme has asked to stay out administrative roles and focus on his own business ventures—you know like hacking governments or whatever he and Cole do in their free time.  That created an opening for Evelyn.  Patricia already oversees Orlesian corporation matters, but the woman always looks for more ways to gain an advantage over her half-sister.  Now with her role as a representative, many Trevelyans believe Evelyn will have more international attention than before that could promote her within the house.   The older my uncle gets, the louder the house’s bickering echoes off the all our finery and money.  Everyone knows my aunt is not well, and many relations predict Ian will follow her quickly to the grave when the time comes.  None of them like Aunt Gwen because Ian married a commoner.  The family freaked back then I remember, the biggest fucking scandal throughout the Free Marches Union in years.  Then they had Evelyn.  Practically shoving his first daughter aside, Ian promised the world to Evelyn.  He loves that woman and would willing give his heart to save and protect his child.”

Cullen knew some of this information, although his friend avoid discussing family politics while operating Inquisition.  The military officer gave a sympathetic, but relieving sigh.  “And I thought Mia’s harassment for not calling or texting was a bad family situation.”  

“I don’t know.  That woman can scream.  I still have her voicemail saved from that time you got shot.”  Both men laughed a few times.  Rian rolled his eyes as he continued to recount his immediate family’s inner squabbles.  “Specific Trevelyans find the whole situation threatening and will do everything to stop ‘the common whore’s bastard’ from gaining a foothold.  They love calling Evelyn that during parties, the fuckers.  In old times, the best way to secure Evelyn’s safety would be for me to marry her.  Maker, that would have been absolutely disgusting.  First cousins…inbreeding.  Ugh.” 

Rian shook the thoughts away; his long straight dark brown bangs battled his brow before he swiped his hand through it.  “Since then, Esme and I protect her, while Ian handles the family as best as possible.  They will not challenge me, but they also remind me that I am not married and have not produced an heir.  My Great-Aunt Lucille makes these crude comments that my swimmers are not going to find anything the longer I wait.  I stated Esme would succeed currently my position if something happens.  You know Esme though.  He hates socializing with anyone not a close friend or a computer.  A few purposeful clicks and he could destroy the Trevelyan companies rather than inherit them.  He remarks he would love seeing the house burn just for how they treat Evelyn.  Still, our relatives fear Evelyn and her potential to ‘ruin the family’ if she receives any control.”

“So the threat is from inside the family.”  Cullen concluded.  His eyes shifted back and forth across the Frostback Mountains as he thought aloud.  “Knotts and Hemmingway cannot maneuver through a sea of nobles trying to physically and politically ruin her life.”

“It gets worse.”  Rian sighed, while wiggling his mouse again.  His computer fell asleep during their conversation.  “Evelyn’s new role is just the latest position that is detrimental to her life.  You see, Evelyn acted as moderator during the Mage-Templar War, treating the wounded and assisting civilians on both sides of the conflict.  Evelyn performed and acted as a diplomat between the factions, despite her views leaning more towards the mages, pushing for basic human rights.  Thus why Gaspard agreed to have her as his liaison.  She wants equality for all, specifically for templars, mages, elves, and dwarves.  She rarely keeps her opinions to herself, so such progressive thoughts did not win her any friends.  Both sides did not like someone who sympathized with their enemy and continuous slandered their wicked methods to win the war.  Those same enemies continue their personal vendettas to this day.”

Cullen laughed a few times shaking his head.  “I doubt anyone left the war without earning a few adversaries.  I know Leliana has a book filled with names of people who would like to snipe us, Rian.”

“If we have a book, Evelyn has an encyclopedia series.”  Rian illustrated his adopted sister’s growing opponents.  “Besides, we would have many more if it was not for Josephine’s sweet talking everyone and using funds sending flowers and fruit baskets.”

The commander muttered.  “Maker’s breath…You have no idea how many woman and some men thought those gestures were personally from me and leave explicit messages on my work phone.”

The Inquisitor pointed to his desk phone.  “You see that blinking light.  I bet there are seven prospective voicemails waiting for me from between lunch and now.  We are the two most available bachelors in southern Thedas.”

Cullen rubbed his face up and down.  “If Josephine had it her way, we would be in arranged marriages by now.”

“Thank the Maker, I am in charge then, huh Rutherford.”

Both men chuckled for a few minutes, shaking their heads.  Every so often Cullen looked over his shoulder, worried the public relations officer will waltz in and overhear them actually enjoying their singlehood.  Josephine and the other women in Rian’s cabinet enjoyed arranging both men on blind dates, determined to get them married off for the organization’s sake.

Rian’s laughter ended first, his eyes staring until nothing.  He continued his explanation of what was happening to his cousin and adopted sister.  “Evelyn’s profession puts her in a corner now too.  Before, it was a freeing and expressive experience for her and those who enjoy what she does.  Knotts informed me now that she collected many stalkers and overly possessive fans.  They harass her at all times, invading her personal space.  She already moved three times and changed her cellphone number more than I care to admit.  Some Chantry fanatics believe she is a heretic and threatened to kidnap or hurt her, while her cult following call her the ‘Herald of Andraste.’  Now that she is politically involved in one of the largest civil wars since Ferelden, those hazards must be addressed and swiftly eliminated.”

Cullen ran his hand through his blond tamed hair and rubbed his neck.  “So let me get this straight:  your sister has stalkers following her, a growing list of past enemies from both sides of a very recent war, and her own family wishing for her political and physical death.  I think the only person with more potential menaces is you, Rian.”

“But I know how to defend myself efficiently and an international army at my back.  Evelyn knows self-defense, a Trevelyan rite-of-passage to make it out of diapers, but she needs a bodyguard and a reliable network to resolve all these conflicts so she can walk into the Winter Palace and act as a challenging diplomat.  Gaspard does not know about these menaces, or he would have not agreed to have the Trevelyans act as moderators.  Even worse, if Evelyn is assassinated, the royal general may blame Celene for her demise and lead to worsening conflict or the use of nuclear gaatloks, which both sides has threatened in the past.  Tevinter gathers its forces along the border eager to reclaim its lost imperial colonies.  On a strict personal level, Evelyn means the world to me, Cullen, and I can only turn to you to protect her.”

“But why not Cassandra?”  Cullen quizzed, still looking for a way to get out of the assignment.  “Aristocrats, fanatics, and political disagreements are all commonplace in her line of work.  She is your lead investigator in IC and the Divine’s Right Hand.  If you need a special operations unit infiltrate a base or an army to invade, call me.”

Rian glared at his friend, his bass tone lowering so his authoritative voice rumbled inside Cullen’s skull and chest.  “The seeker and my sister both stated if they even met in a hallway, they will kill one another.”

“Really?”  Cullen blinked a few times utterly surprised how demanding his boss was acting.  “Could your sister truly take down the seeker?”

Rian pinched his nose.  “Let me put it this way:  I do not know who to bet on.  The hallway will need to be completely rebuilt, possibly all of Skyhold if both women suppressed the garrisoned troops.”

“Maker’s breath…”

Rian continued.  “You know Cassandra:  blunt, hot tempered, and stubborn.  That is also Evelyn, the only difference is that my sister will rip off my balls, while Cassandra is nice enough to use her boot knife.  I personally wish to keep my genitals, so I will keep the two women separate.”

The commander nodded, completely stunned.  Cassandra and the commander spar frequently.  Somehow this noble civilian could match the seeker’s ferocity.  “Understandable.  Do I want to know what happened?”

Rian shook his head quickly.  “The less you know on that, the better.  Ignorance is bliss.  Furthermore, I want _you_ to protect Evelyn.  No one else.  Period.”  Now, Rian’s grey eyes glowed with his ire that Cullen continued to fight him on the assignment.

Cullen knew he was not getting out of this.  Despite Rian always giving him a choice so the commander could govern his choices, this seem like the first time his best friend and employer will not reconsider.  If Cullen asked for anything, Rian will probably give it so he will accept the assignment.  However, the commander only wished to not protect a snobby aristocrat’s daughter.

The former knight could not remember anything about Rian’s cousin, which just made the whole situation worse.  He never met her, but practically heard her name on Esme and Rian’s lips consistently.  Josephine knew her through high society.  Dorian in Pathology is related to the Trevelyans and is her best friend.  How did Cullen never meet this woman or know anything truly about her despite being surrounding by people who spoke her name daily?

“Not to…sound like I don’t l-listen,” Cullen stammered, somewhat embarrassed to be head of security and military personnel and _not_ have intelligence on such an important person.  “B-but, what _does_ your sister do when not a diplomat?”

Rian chuckled a few times, shaking his head.  “Depends on with angle you look at her really.  All the more reason for you to be her personal bodyguard, Cullen.  You do not know the world she is forced to live.  Maybe you can see a way to break her free?”

Cullen peeled back another layer to why Rian asked him.  He already stated that _whatever_ she did would help his lyrium withdraw, but he could uncover everything binding her to a mistrusting lifestyle, well besides her own family and past warring leaders trying to kill her.  Cullen observed and acted on duty.  He never appreciated someone being disrespected, despite he doing that very thing during his military career under oppressive orders.  He was a protector, a safe haven for people unable to stand alone.  Rian constantly remarked he could oversee the Inquisition Coalition because of his supportive cabinet, specifically Cullen and Cassandra.  Rian wished to give that to the person most dear to him.

“You didn’t answer my question.”  Cullen muttered behind his hand, while leaning on the chair’s arm.  “I’m not going to like it.  I can tell just by your lack of specifics.”

Rian huffed a chuckle and shook his head.  “Just because it will put you in front and center of _everything_ , which is both a good and bad thing in this case.  You will see all, but at the same time being entwined with politics, aristocrats, and the fanatical populace; your _favorite_ combination.”

Cullen growled his famous mabari sneer, annoyed his best friend had yet answer his question.  “Out with it, Trevelyan!”

Rian pursed his lips.  A small curl touched the end of his lips.

Cullen is not going to like this _at all._


	2. Chain Her (Evie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it sad that I made Cullen in 'Stardew Valley?' Don't judge me...
> 
> Chapter Song: "Never Do Anything" by Barenaked Lakes

Adelheid watched as the ping pong ball fell perfectly in the middle red Solo cup on the other side of the long painted table.  She slightly grinned approvingly before glancing her blue grey eyes up at her opponent.  She relaxed her hand, falling to her slim side.  “Drink.”

Dorian stared at her from the other side; his moustache lip twitching while he reached for the tall red cup.  The smell of disgusting Fereldan cheap beer burned his nose before his lips touched the cup rim.  He took one sip, almost ralphing all over the floor.  “Fasta vaas!  That’s awful!  Why beer, Evie!?  I bought the best wine that would equally suffice.”

The wavy auburn haired woman standing behind him giggled, watching the scientist try to drink the brew.  “Because there’s nothing like watching you try to drink anything but the best vintage brewed in Tevinter.  I could use tequila, you know.”

“ _Some_ of us have to work tomorrow, you witch.”  He bickered while trying to finish the drink.  “What in the Void are we playing this sophomoric game anyway?!  We all are past our college years.”

Adelheid stared at the man, unamused.  Her pointed ear tips wiggled as she spoke.  “Then why are you acting like a childish turd about your relationship with Iron Bull?”

Dorian threw the agent a glare.  “There is nothing going on between me and that Qunari brute.”

Esme stepped forward on the other side of the table.  His curly brown-tinted red hair bouncing on top of his head, while he scratched his goatee.  His adopted sister stepped aside so he could take his turn.  “And I’m a monkey’s uncle.”

Adelheid eyed Evie a puzzled look.  “You preggers?”

The woman rolled her bright green eyes, flipping the elf off.   “I have to get laid for that, and it’s been several _years_ since any man has even gotten close to me.”

The Dalish woman smirked wickedly.  Her icy blue vallaslin representing the elven god, Falon’din, jumped out with her forehead and eyebrow wrinkling.  The sacred tattoo only dyed her forehead, uncommon for the Falon’din markings.  “I suggested several women who would fulfill your tastes, dear sister…”

Evie eyed her adopted sister.  “See if you try dating women again after your girlfriend runs off with your childhood friend and elopes during a Blight…”

Dorian tossed his cup over his shoulder, showing he was done before walking away and muttered something in Tevene.  Evie watched from her position leaning on a steel bar supporting the warehouse roof.  The woman just shook her head and giggled.  Her puffy, messy bun on top of her head bounced with each shake.

It was Evie’s first Thursday night in Haven, and the woman needed a few people over at her new flat to distract her.  Her stressful life was ripped apart by a chaotic whirlwind the last few months, especially when her oldest brother decided to govern her life choices out of worry and love.  She called a few select friends to come enjoy some drinks.  Sera swiftly brought the beer pong table and bought three 24-pack cases of the cheapest Fereldan beer Haven’s corner store sold.  Dorian nearly stormed out seeing the elf set up the game, but Evie gave him a look indicating she needed his support tonight.  The woman believed if Bull was in town, he would have left for sure.

“So Ri got you a human shield…”  Adelheid sang while sitting on the nearby couch beside the drunk Sera, who just slung her leg over a plush couch arm and stared at the ceiling.  She enjoyed her blissful alcoholic buzz and elfroot joint.

Evie approached the beer pong table, staring her baby brother down like they were about to fight to the death.  The woman claimed a ping pong ball from a nearby bucket, keeping her bright green eyes locked on the tall, cut man across from her.  She bounced the ball and got it in a back cup.  She just tilted her head and grinned naughtily.  Esme rolled his brown eyes, unimpressed.  He proceeded to drink the beer in a few gulps, not like Dorian’s tiny sips.

The hostess motioned for her younger brother to take his shot.  She needed anything alcoholic to get through the next twenty-four hours.  “Yup.  He thinks I cannot take care of myself.”

“Sunshine, you were swarmed by fans in Redcliffe all alone and looking like you wrestled a bear.”  Dorian commented, drinking some old vintage wine to clean his palette.  “However, from the magazine photos, you still looked better than Solas from Cultural Preservation.”

Adelheid rolled her icy blue eyes just hearing the person’s name.  “I fucking hate that guy.  One day, IC’s internal security will have to pull me off his stick body and egg head while I punch him into a pulp.”

Evie watched as younger brother tossed his ball and miss the red cup.  Evie sighed, knowing she will just take another tequila shot just to push her apprehension aside.  Thank goodness Adelheid was fired up about just hearing the organization’s lead archeologist’s name so she did not have to think about her new predicament.  The sniper and the researcher never agreed on Dalish culture, debating and fighting for hours when they met in an Inquisition hallway.

The younger elven woman, her elven given name being Adhal’hella, lost her family during the Wycome uprising five years ago when the aristocrats blamed her clan for a mysterious disease killing people.  The disease ended up being red lyrium that only added more hysteria to the upper crest’s paranoia.  Evie’s brother, Rian, settled the misunderstanding as knight-commander, but not before most of the surrounding Dalish people were slaughtered like druffalo.  The trials for those who murdered indiscriminately were still occurring in international courts with no end in sight. 

Rian felt responsible for Adelheid family’s death and brought the adolescent home to Ostwick.  Quickly, Evie’s father openly welcomed her into the family, compelled by her tragic story to push for elven rights within the Thedas Unified Alliance.  She kept her original surname, selected a more human name to avoid mispronunciation, and is now considered a Trevelyan by the upper echelon.  It did not mean she was accepted by prejudiced rich society.  Patricia keeps herself hundred miles away from the Dalish elf, partly because of appearances and also ‘Addy’ might put a bullet in her head from a mile away.  The elf was the Inquisition’s best sniper, trained by the Grey Warden SWAT officer, Nathaniel Howe, a member of an international police force that predated the Inquisition Coalition and the TUA.  Sera came a close second, but cannot be stealthy even if her life depended on it.  She was a kill-and-explode-everything kind of agent, especially if it was an Orlesian aristocrat lost their life.  The Chargers loved her, specifically Rocky.  Maker’s arse, where did Rian find these people?

As Evie wandered over to her bar outlined with a brass bar, she thought she might actually encourage her half-sister Patricia’s assassination.  She hated murder though, even if it was a person who tormented her since birth.  Evie witnessed enough blood shed during the war and personally wished to see no more in her lifetime.  However, Patricia purposely sabotaged Evie’s opportunities within the family.  If it was not for Patrician’s political and social meddling, Evie would have not needed to leave Ostwick and essentially hide in a small backwoods town in the middle of nowhere with over-protective brothers that demanded some ex-templar escort her everywhere.  Hemmingway and Knotts were her best friends and excellent bodyguards when she performed concerts or attended parties.  Rian determined she need a specialized chaperone who will watch everything she does now.  Evie wondered if that included when she pinched a loaf too.

“Evie, you know Rian is doing it because he loves you.”  Esme stated, rubbing his sister’s back while she poured herself a second tequila shot.  Evie offered it to the computer genius.  He shook his head no and watched her swallow the strong liquor like a champ.  “ _I_ love you.  I don’t want anything happening you.  You live a double life.  The Void, a _triple_ life between living as an aristocrat, aiding civilians in war zones, and performing some complex violin dance.  I’m surprised you keep everything straight.”

Evie huffed at the statement.  “I have an excellent yet bitchy talent agent and a personal assistant for that very reason.  Varric’s talent agency and Fesill keep me knowing which city I’m in half the time.  This past tour almost killed me.  After Redcliffe, Varric and Vivienne told me to stay low and write some music.  Something new to direct attention away from my controversial, yet logical civil rights claims.  Fesill is staying in Ostwick for a while until I must return to the socialite world before the Winter Palace.  I ran off to Ferelden because I was sick of fake smiling and looking over my shoulder constantly.  I never expected some fanatical fan chanting I was Andraste’s messenger or whatever those cultists believe.  I can only apologize to the Divine so many times for the blasphemies.  On the bright side, it will be nice to just relax and take some time for myself after these last troubling years.”

Esme beamed, half hugging his big sister.  “It will be nice to have you around.  Skyhold looks forward to meeting the ‘cool’ sister.  Josephine wanted to host a welcoming party for you, but Rian stated you might burn the castle down.”

“I would with gaatlock, dancing among the burning flames happily.”  Evie exclaimed flatly.  “Maker, the woman is a public relations goddess, but I would like my family association to stay as minimal as possible.  I don’t like bring called ‘Patricia’s sister’ or ‘Rian’s cousin’ everywhere I go…”  She sighed, leaning on her hand while her elbow rested on the bar.  “It is never just ‘Evie.’  No one likes me, Ezzy.”  Her words slurred after each sentence.

Esme laughed a few times, shaking his head.  His dark red curls bounced on top of his head.  “They do, Evie, just not in a healthy way.  Everyone knows your face as the great ‘Herald of Andraste, the woman whose violin sings like the Fade.  Her dancing will enchant you like a mystical nymph, while her music will pull you into the greatest dreams’…or whatever garbage Varric and Vivienne promotes.  With your bestselling albums and your face hanging all over Val Royeaux and Denerim, you can’t just hide behind a pseudo-name to walk down the street unnoticed.”

The woman thumped her forehead against the granite bar.  “ _Fuck…_ ”  She beat her fist against the granite a few times.  “I didn’t mind performing.  I’ve danced and played violin for most of my life for personal release, but never planned on making it a career.  I didn’t mind serenading some sappy couple when they proposed, or filling Ostwick’s concert hall with music during the holidays.  It was relaxing.  I just finished my dissertation in red lyrium geology.  Father got excited I might oversee the mining corporations so he could be at home with Mother.  Then Kirkwall happened and the Circles rebelled.  Varric and Veronica Hawke met me in Kirkwall and asked if I could cheer up everyone while removing red lyrium.  I only wanted to help the civilians suffering during the riots.  The dwarf got me to play for relief workers and refugees.  All of the sudden I’m all over Nugtube and an international sensation… _Fuck…_ ”

“You got a gift, Evie.”  Esme remarked, his pride written across his beaming face.  “You helped me start talking as a toddler.  You kept Dad sane when Mom’s breast cancer first popped up.  Even Rian’s doing better with lyrium withdraw when you play.  For fuck sake, you get Sera to stop bitching when you dance.”

“I heard that, idjit!”

Evie stumped to the side on the metal stool.  Her hand grasped for the Antivan tequila bottle again and poured another shot.  She hugged the glass bottle like her life depended on it.  “It’s exhausting…I don’t want people to say my name because I am a Trevelyan or saw my face on some poster or I come from money.  I want to people to cheer because they like _me._ ”

Dorian leaned over the depressed woman and kissed her sun-kissed cheek.  “We love you, Sunshine.  That’s why your brother assigned you the most _gorgeous_ specimen the Inquisition can provide.”

Evie took the shot and slammed the glass down.  She glanced over her tense shoulder at her best friend.  “What do you know about this babysitter?”

“He’s a stick in the mud!”  Sera snapped, bouncing out off the couch.  “Stiff old fogy who never does anything fun.  He snaps at all the recruits and always grimaces!  I booby trap his office all the time just to see if he has a pulse!”  The elf giggled.  “Hehe…booby…”

Evie groaned loudly.  “ _Great!_   That’s all I need…”

Dorian rolled his sparkling grey eyes.  “Don’t listen to her.  He is my chess opponent when he is not running missions or hollering at his dumb assistant.  He is delectable to watch…very handsome and buff.”

Esme grimaced, a nerve twitched in his cheek.  He had yet voice his opinion about the bodyguard.  “I’m handsome too.  It doesn’t mean a thing.  Your point?”

Dorian flicked his hand at the young man.  “You may be able to do karate and that crazy stuff, but this guy was a templar and trains like one every day.  Maker, it’s such a beautiful sight.  To have a picture of _his_ specimen…”

“You need a cigarette?”  Adelheid called from the across the loft.  She waited patiently to play more beer pong, but everyone was huddled by the bar.  “Or is that only after Bull pounds you into a mattress?”

Dorian grunted in disbelief and flicked off the elf without turning around.

“I personally don’t like the guy.”  Esme replied, crossing his arms over his vintage Space Wars t-shirt.  “Rian and he might be best buds, but there is just something unsettling about him.  I worked with him in Kirkwall following the riots, and he was not very approachable.”

Evie laughed once.  “No one enjoyed Kirkwall, Ezzy.  Just for the stint I was there, it said enough to never go back.  I wonder if I met him then.  We were there at the same time, weren’t we?”

“Somewhat.  I was the one gathering all the Gallows’ files for the international committee report.  That went nowhere since all the Circles academies declared independence and started the rebellion.”  Esme glanced away, thinking about the war.  “You were in Darktown and Lowtown trying to get people to safety.  Maker, I remember how pissed Father was when he found out you were there and unprotected.  I personally arrived around the same time Rian did.”

“I can protect myself, you know that.  Too bad Father and Rian cannot see it…”  Evie hissed; her Free Marcher lilt slurred more each passing minute.  The tequila shots slowly flowed into her bloodstream, no longer filtered by her liver.  “Furthermore, we mages had legitimate reasons to bitch.  Censorship.  Restricted research.  Forbidden areas of study.  All we scholars wanted was to be able to publish our work without the Chantry redacting anything controversial or went against religious doctrine.  We mages couldn’t even leave the school grounds without flashing our specialized identification cards and had to return before curfew.  It was the Chantry that called us ‘mages,’ and the news networks loved it.  Young children sent to those segregating academies, compared with stupid fable magic wielders, just because they can handle lyrium and other people can’t!  Some people actually believe we summon demons and can destroy the world with elven foci!  The whole bullshit stems back to the Chantry telling falsehoods about mages walking into the Maker’s Golden City and causing the Blight.  Science has shown the Blight is a very aggressive virus that effects many species, specifically mammals.  It originates from the Deep Roads, not darkspawn and dragon Old Gods.  To think about all those people not treated ages ago because people considered them monsters, suffering and wasting away alone.”

“You’re ranting again.”  Esme commented, nudging his sister in the side.  “Besides, you didn’t join the rebellion to reclaim free speech and the separation of church and state.”

Evie threw him a look and continued to let her thoughts fall from her gapping loose mouth.  “Because the Chantry labelled the rebels terrorists.  Fiona handled everything wrong.  I wasn’t going to join a bunch of students and educators who disagreed on everything when they finally voted to strike.  Apparently, everyone forgot what research conferences were like.  Furthermore, the Chantry ignored their own troops meant to enforce their restrictive practices.  The bloody knights left and started killing anyone who had a sensible brain, driven crazy by that damn steroid.  What a cluster fuck.  Now, my bloody brother wants me watched by a templar like I was still in the Circle.  Fuck him, fuck this damn bodyguard, and fuck everyone who thinks I need help!”

“That’s another thing.”  Adelheid interjected.  She took a few sips of cheap beer sitting on the beer pong table.  “He’s the guy that convinced Rian to stop taking lyrium.”

Evie bit her lower lip, her temper governed her drunk mind.  “I don’t know if I should kiss or hate him for that.  He was a templar from a common family.  That means he either he got a girl pregnant and ran away or he loved slapping little kindergartens who misbehaved during class.”  She rubbed the scars on her forehead.  “On the other hand, he probably saved Ri from insanity.  Esme, you probably don’t remember Grandfather screaming and throwing shit in his later years.  It was that kind of shit that made me want to study the geological composition of lyrium.”  The woman rolled her head a few times around her shoulders.  “Anything else?”

“How in the Maker have you never met Commander ‘Sexy’ Rutherford?”  Dorian asked, sitting down in a stool beside her.  “He and Rian have been attached to the hip since Kirkwall.”

Evie shrugged.  “I heard his name a few times, but Rian never told any stories about the guy.  Ri doesn’t talk about his time in the templars, and I don’t push it.  Too ashamed, I guess.  I know he hurts, the physical wounds healed but not the emotional and psychological ones.”

“And now he trying to help _you_.”  Esme proclaimed, while he scratched his jawline beard.  “Just see how this goes.  You never know, you might warm up to the whole idea.  He can figure out who the fuck is sending you all those threatening letters and calls you at all hours.  I know I can’t trace the line back or I would have beat the shit out of the prick.”

Dorian waved his hand.  “And I will cut up his body into little bits.”

Evie bit her lip again.  Thank the Maker she was not in Ostwick anymore.  No more family members insulting her every action.  No more crazy fan mail with declarations of love or godhood.  And definitely no more emailed threats to kidnap her and send her decapitated head to her dying mother as proof they will always succeed.

Suddenly, the loft began spinning.  Never a good sign.  That night’s burrito supreme from that Mexican food truck started rumbling in her stomach.  Saliva quickly coated her teeth and tongue.  She had seconds before vomiting refried beans, tequila, and acid.  She really did not want to ruin her new hardwood dance floor.  “Bathroom.  Now.”

Dorian huffed, slapping his forehead.  “Fasta vaas!  I told you, Sera, that nasty beer will kill someone!”

“Want another?”  The agent giggled lifting up her Solo cup proudly.

“ _No!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adelheid is my Dalish archer Inquisitor. I wanted her in a story for a while. She does not give a fuck, preferring to just live her life instead of deal with all the bullshit. (She romanced Sera and Iron Bull.) She and Cassandra always argued during that play through...
> 
> This supposedly takes places after the Mage-Templar War and the Qunari invasion attempt in Trespasser, but the Orlesian Civil War is still going on and Divine Justinia never died at the Temple of the Sacred Ashes, which means Cassandra and Leliana are still with the Inquisition and her Hands. (Seven years after Kirkwall's Chantry explosion.) Corypheus and his goons will be a terrorist organization. (No, I am not going to get all IRL in this story, just finding common relationships between fantasy and modern worlds. Definitely not going IRL political and social with this story, so common themes are purely coincidental!) Like I said, everything out of sequence. Just trust me okay? I know it is kind of confusing, but I just wanted to use the game's topics, but not retell the whole story. This isn't about the Inquisition, but more sassy carefree Evie throwing a wrench in Cullen's workaholic life.


	3. Sizing Up (Cullen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "The Phoenix" by Lindsey Stirling
> 
> The chapter continues in the next posting on Friday. What will Evie think of Cullen?
> 
> You liking the story? Something confusing? Let me know with kudos and comments!

Cullen decided to take Surana to the consultation that Friday.  The loyal war mabari stood by him since the animal saved his life during the Kirkwall riots.  Typically, the war hound remained on base and escorted him on military missions, but he needed her loyal and unwavering assurance that Friday.  Surana followed him throughout his Skyhold sparely-furnished tower loft, whining constantly.  She surely sensed the security commander’s tension.  Cullen never had to say anything when he pointed out of his front door, opened his company black Range Rover’s side door, and the hound leaped into the front passenger seat.  The man wondered sometimes if that dog read his mind.

Following the winding autumn roads down the mountain, Cullen mentally reviewed all known facts about Evelyn Trevelyan.  Rian gave him a file on all known enemies and security issues surrounding the woman.  Leliana instinctively sent him an encrypted e-mail with current rumors and insider information.  Esme included all digital harassment she has received by phone and online.  Trevelyan agents will transfer their notes and investigation as soon as it was all digitized and secure.  There was so much data that Cullen decided to tackle it over the weekend.

Rian only admitted her profession after Cullen growled and barked.  She was a rising violinist, a unique performer because she used a five-stringed electric instrument, instead of the typical wooden four stringed instrument.  She sometimes sang with her pieces, but preferred her instrument to enchant audiences.  The musician stated the five strings allowed her to embrace the viola’s lower alto tones with a violin’s higher singing abilities. Critics—some of which were potential threats—hissed at her musical choices until the saw her explosive and engrossing performances. 

Besides playing, the Trevelyan sister danced during solo musical performances.  Her styles ranged between ballet and contemporary, but almost all fans agreed it was specifically _her_.  She wore mystical animal costumes with her exposed skin painted in dazzling ways that brought the fabled creatures to life, resembling Cirque de Soleil acrobats.  She married different forms of the arts into one exquisite show that drove audiences wild.  The Free Marcher was on demand across southern Thedas, filling concert halls in all major cities constantly.

Yet, Evie’s artistic profession was not her first.  Dancing and playing were only personal hobbies made famous once posted on Nugtube.  In another life, she was known as Dr. Evelyn Monroe, a distinguished geologist who left her studies around the time the rebellion occurred.  She graduated at the top of her class and in record time.  Her research focused on understanding raw lyrium corruption since a Deep Roads archaeological mission discovered a red lyrium statue eleven years ago.  She spend a year as a Masters student in Orzammar, studying the strange mineral with the dwarves despite the human risk of poisoning so close to the raw form.  Her vocation prepared her to oversee her family’s mining operations throughout the Free Marchers, but the family chased her away before gaining a foothold, especially following her recent delegation assignment.

The woman utilized her education to ‘run away’ from Ostwick, a common act when the sister felt confined or restless.  Her latest escape turned into a publicity disaster in Redcliffe when she argued publically with the former mage rebellion leader, a full tenured professor named Dr. Fiona Comtois, over how she handled the war.  Disguised as a researcher assisting Fereldan engineers removing exposed red lyrium nodes, she met the former grand scholar while drunk and could not keep her aggressive opinions to herself.  Once nearby fans recognized her as the famous violinist, videos popped up on Nugtube publicizing the heated political exchange.

The commander was quite familiar with red lyrium, encountering the substance as Kirkwall’s knight-commander.  In the city-state, it had been refined and processed as a stronger, more addicting steroid used by both templars and civilians alike.  The substance’s expansive growth throughout the continent worried the Thedas Unified Alliance as it grew into a global public health crisis.  Carta traffickers and smugglers were getting rich off new addicts, while police forces and emergency personnel constantly fought to stop overdoses and insanity.  Larceny and murder were at an all-time high.  Prior to leaving her profession, Evie advocated minimizing blue lyrium sales throughout Thedas as a way to curb addictions and overdoses of both steroid forms.  The dwarven nation condemned the recommendation, stating it would destroy their economy.  She received major death threats from the dwarven mob, Carta, constantly.

The day before, the security officer asked a few coworkers what they thought about the middle Trevelyan sister, if Adelheid was included in the large family.  He avoided Esme, always sensing Rian’s younger brother did not care for his presence, especially now that his sister was the commander’s charge.  Rian was not the only over-protective sibling.  In some ways, Esme surpassed the Inquisitor’s guarding behavior by hacking ex-boyfriends’ Fadebook and other social media accounts.  Josephine stated she loved Evelyn’s performances, already seeing two in the last year.  She credited the woman for her easy maneuvering through the aristocracy, while also demonstrating she did not want to be counted among the elite.  Sera loved the woman because she assisted the lower classes through her philanthropy work and forgave her for being a noblewoman.  Dorian just laughed, while the commander snagged his queen during chess.  He sassed that Cullen met his challenge and refused to say any more, sipping his brandy with a smug look on his face like the cat who ate the pigeon—he meant canary.  Adelheid just rolled her eyes before waltzing off to the shoot range.  The Dalish woman muttered under her breath that her sister will have fun torturing him.  Harding willingly gave him the advice to not inviting her temper.  ‘She isn’t called ‘Pheonix’ for nothing.’  Finally, Cassandra groaned and patted his shoulder in sympathy, quickly adding to warn her when he brought the woman to Skyhold.

After gluing all the pieces together, Cullen knew he will hate his assignment, but accepted for Rian’s sake.  This woman collected adversaries worse than the whole Inquisition:  crazed fans, Carta and Orlesian death threats, Mage-Templar slander, and typical Trevelyan internal politics.  Rian was right that this was not a normal protection detail.  The only other security personnel Cullen would trust with this was the Iron Bull, but he and his special operations crew, The Chargers, were busy in Orlais.  Since Rian’s sister would be staying in Haven for a few months, it would be somewhat easy for Cullen to protect her and serve the Inquisition, _if_ the woman followed his specific requirements.  It was when she had a potential concert or needed to attend a party that will piss off the commander, not just for attending those damn socialite gatherings, but the exterior risks to her life.

What a fucking nightmare.

Cullen only accepted because he supported Rian on nearly everything he did.  The man knew the commander would hate the assignment.  The Inquisitor gave Cullen his life back after twelve years of serving a bunch of idiots who stole his mind and soul.  It was his grey swirling eyes showing the fear that he might lose another person so close to him.  Rian cherished this woman.  They shared a kinship that reminded Cullen of his close connection with his sister Mia.  Cullen could never imagine something happening to his big sister, and Rian felt the same about Evelyn.

The assignment did not seem so bad in some ways, particularly the fat bonus from the Trevelyans if everything was resolved.  With the funds, Cullen will be able to purchase that plot of land in South Reach to begin his rehabilitation center for recovering addicts.  The commander loved his current job, a little too much if someone asked his coworkers.  Almost everyone at IC knew Cullen overworked and micromanaged everything.  His hands touched almost all operations, specifically all external missions requiring the organization’s protection:  from historical preservation sites to borderless doctors’ hospitals.  This detail gave him more to occupy his time, specifically to block out his lyrium cravings hammering inside his skull after six years clean.

Cullen’s amber eyes watched the road closely, turning the rover’s steering wheel swiftly around the sharp turns.  The road used to be an old cart trail to the castle.  Skyhold Fortress remained unoccupied for ages since even local historical societies could not afford the upkeep.  Rian bought the fortress and the surrounding area with his own fortune.  For the last three years, Inquisition Coalition worked to restore the structure and modify it to fit the organization’s needs.  Cullen thought the man was crazy when the Inquisitor showed it off.  How in the Void would he secure this old dump, but he quickly retracted his insult.  He quickly embraced its charm, especially when Rian’s vision came to fruition.

However, the surrounding landscape made travel difficult.  Despite geothermal heat keeping this part of the Frostback Mountains warm, winter was a royal pain on the mountain passes.  Seeing the array of gold, red, and brown across the deciduous forest so early, Cullen knew the Fereldan winter will be worse than usual this year.  His complex mind ran through scenarios where travel will be difficult if the musician required immediately protection.  He might temporarily have to move into the village just to be in close proximity.

The Trevelyan Family bought an old industrial building along Haven’s wharf to house Evelyn.  For the last two weeks, Cullen prepared the renovated building for her inevitable arrival.  Bulletproof glass replaced all outside windows.  Cameras and sensors scanned the perimeter and surrounding area.  Coded locks secured all exterior doors.  Reinforced walls will absorb any explosives and ammunition.  Rian told him to give it ‘the business’ and not to worry about expense, setting up a special funds account for the assignment.  Cullen did exactly that.  The internal renovations were not his ideal protected floorplan, but apparently, the Inquisitor’s sister has strict requirements for her “prison,” as she had called it.

Surana sensed the officer’s stress thinking about the same recurring question that kept rolling around his brain since Rian asked him to take on the personal protection detail (PPD):  how has he not met her?  Almost everyone in IC met her at least once.  How hadn’t he?

In the past, Cullen unfortunately met the other members of the Trevelyan Family.  The patriarch, Governor Ian Trevelyan, was an intimidating man who psychologically analyzed everyone to find weaknesses.  The father acted similar to Leliana with her suspicious gazes and knowing everyone’s darkest secrets.  The security officer could not determine who would win in that battle of wits, but just knew he would not want to be within a hundred miles of the grand battle.

 Lady Gwen, when not battling Stage 4 cancer and able to travel beyond the Trevelyan estate, is a sweet and caring woman.  She embraced Cullen as one of her own children, especially after he convinced Rian to stop taking lyrium.  The Bann’s wife always invites Cullen to spend holidays with the close family and sends him well wishes when his withdraw becomes too much.  According to Rian, Lady Gwen is shunned by the upper echelon because she will never be as highly regarded and respected as the bann’s first wife, Juliet Callier.

Esme was a loner, more likely to speak to a stranger on computer chat than in person.  Every time Cullen spoke to the young man, the commander received one-word answers and a glare that would blow up Skyhold.  Maker only knows the brother’s problem with him.  Cullen does not remember a time he invited the technician’s ire.

Adelheid lived a world apart, favoring assassinating drug lords than meddling with her adopted extended family.  The Dalish elf was always calm and stolid, rarely caring what people thought about her after walking in on her having a threesome with some other female agents.  Cullen will never block out that fortress patrol detail and still cannot look at Ritt without remembering how she could bend her body like a pretzel.  Thankfully, Rian asked his sister to move to Haven to avoid any other awkward situations.

Lastly, Cullen preferred never seeing Patricia again.  Everything he hated was molded into one pompous woman.  The Orlesian countess could tear you to pieces with a few words in front of dozens of people.  Cullen will not forget _that_ party.  Ugh.  All those events and security personnel where Cullen protected Rian, and Evelyn Trevelyan never crossed his path, this famous, important woman in his best friend’s life.  Why did that bother the commander so much? 

Cullen shook the confusion and annoyance away as he entered the little hamlet of Haven.  Since the Inquisition’s establishment, the town’s population had almost doubled.  Many researchers and support personnel lived away from Skyhold so new housing constantly popped up along the farming outskirts.  The main street came alive with all new locally-owned stores and renovated buildings.  The place was nothing like its former self.

A fanatical cult established the village a few decades ago, hiding the final resting place of the Maker’s Bride’s ashes.  During the last Blight, several special operations Grey Wardens, international police officers with no limited jurisdiction, discovered the sacred holy site.  That led to the Chantry reclaiming the area and eliminating the cult, including their false Andraste dragon, one of last extremely endangered beasts in Thedas.  When Divine Justina proclaimed IC’s establishment, she turned control over to the organization to guard and protect the region.  A terrorist decided to blow up the holy temple during peace talks to stop the Mage-Templar War, nearly killing the Divine herself.  The explosion and the red lyrium growing beneath it was one of the IC’s first missions.  When things could not get worse, two months later an avalanche nearly wiped the hamlet’s population and IC off the map.  Rian evacuated everyone before getting buried himself under several feet of snow.  He discovered an abandoned mine system and barely survived.  To this day, Rian still avoids going skiing and driving during bad winter weather.  That year was one of the longest in Cullen’s life, on par with Kirkwall after the Chantry explosion.

The Ranger Rover turned onto a side street, following the river to a large lake beneath the ruined temple.  The wharf slowly returned to a working site after all the traumas.  Medium-sized ships docked to unload raw materials and load finished industrial products.  The lumber yard and the nearby mill were constantly working to fulfill local orders.  Fishing boats already returned with their morning freshwater catch. 

Cullen found it strange that an aristocrat’s daughter wanted to live in a rundown industrial area.  The Trevelyan sister’s specific warehouse laid beside an old unused stone dock and a tributary running from the mountain snow caps.  Trees lined the backside where the building’s right side laid flesh against a bedrock cliff side.  The wide open left side windows overlooked the wharf and glimmering lake.  The old textile factory building was over an age old built with brick and metal siding.  It was two stories tall, doubled with its high A-line wooden and sheet metal roof littered with new bulletproof skylights.  

Rian personally oversaw the renovations and gave Cullen a copy of the open layout.  The officer hated it.  It was a security nightmare with its numerous windows, open spaces, and lack of protective cover.  Rian agreed, but to fit his sister’s specific personal needs.  A three car garage, a sound studio, and gym occupied the bottom floor.  The primary living space filled the second floor, only accessible through an old lift and a side staircase specifically placed by IC for emergencies.  There was a second floor entrance that led over a bridge to the cliff, but Cullen designed the metal catwalk to lift and drop after entering a special pass code from inside the warehouse, another secret emergency exit if the building was attacked.

When Cullen saw the classic painted grey Jeep CJ7 Apostate with its burnt orange and yellow stripes out front and not in the protected locked garage, he nearly turned around and went back to base.[1]  What made it worse was the tan soft top was down, exposing the matching tan leather exterior.  There were no doors.  Maker’s breath!  The woman already broke one of his security requirements to keep her vehicle inside, especially after what happened to Rian’s parents.  Either she had not read the guidelines her brother sent by e-mail or she purposefully wanted to break the rules.  Dorian’s wicked laugh rang through Cullen’s mind.  The Tevinter pathologist stated be prepared for opposition.  Office whispers mentioned she enjoyed being mischievous and maddening.

Fucking great.

Surana whined, glancing at her human companion with a sympathetic look.  Her short grey hair resembled the CJ7’s gunmetal paint.  Cullen always like her little white muzzle, highlighting the mabari’s expressive face.  The Range Rover came to a stop by the jeep, gravel crunching beneath its all-terrain tires.  The officer parked and turned off the engine slamming his head back against the black leather rest.  He let out a heavy sigh, while squeezing his amber eyes shut.  He rubbed them a few times in hopes to relieve his thumping head.

“This is going to be a horrendous…”  The man muttered to himself.  He pinched his nose, already feeling a migraine forming between his eyes.  His free hand immediately reached into his cargo pant pocket and pulled out his prescription-grade headache medicine.  Hopefully, it will keep it at bay until he was back at Skyhold.  All he needed was to have a bad PTSD episode.  Not the greatest first impression to his charge.

Once swallowing two tablets dry, he grabbed his messenger bag strap he slung on the SUV’s floor beneath Surana and pushed open the driver side door.  Surana jumped the center console and raced out behind him.   She landed on all four paws right as Cullen pushed the door closed.  A quick click of the hand-held key alarm locked the vehicle before he placed the keys in his upper pants pocket.  On instinct, he tapped his M1911, utility knife, and smartphone, making sure all of his necessaries were present and easily assemble.  He flipped the bag’s MOLLE strap over his head, batting his hair out of sorts.  One hand combed his tamed hair back into place, while he reviewed his tailored light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, pressed cargo dress pants, and brown boots.  He forwent a tie, needing the open neck room since the withdraw sweats were worse than normal.

Why did he feel like he needed to be so dressed up and prepared?  He just figured he subconsciously wanted to give a good first impression.  It is not like he saw what she looked like searching the web.  Most of her performances she wore strange masks and layers of stage makeup so you never saw her face.  All socialite photos caught her turned away or in shadow like she did not want to be seen.  Even the framed photos in Rian’s office were dark and difficult to see her specifically…like Cullen purposefully searched for her face in Rian’s framed photos while he was out of the office.  That would have been extremely creepy and weird.  Good thing no one caught him doing it.

“Surana, patrol the perimeter and wait by the car.”  The security officer called, watching his hound trot away to investigate the warehouse’s exterior.  She only glanced back once Cullen began walking towards the side door along the old dock facing the lake.  The animal gave one last low ruff like she wished him luck.

Esme fitted the outside door with a coded lock and a face camera so the occupant could see a visitor and grant access.  Cullen pressed the intercom to ring inside.  His stance immediately fell to military rest, years of engrained training never allowing him to stand like civilians.  He waited patiently, studying the surrounding for watching eyes or suspicious activity.  After a minute of no answer, he rang again.  His ears attuned to repeating thumping noise from inside the building.  It meant someone was home along with the parked jeep.  He waited, trying to determine if he could hear the lift’s whines from his location.  Whatever the thumping was obscured any other sounds.

Another minute passed without the intercom flashing or inside movement.  Cullen grimaced, not sure what he should do.  Rian stated by text she expected him at 10:30 a.m. and she would be home.  Cullen glanced at his sports watch, 10:37.  Concern wailed up inside him.  A quick thought suggested something already happened to her, and she had only be present for two days. 

The security office’s amber irises flicked to the coded lock.  He had a specialized passcode that would allow him entrance.  If he did that, it would probably give a horrible first impression and demonstrate he would willingly interrupt her private time.  Yet, they had a scheduled meeting to review all security protocols and her visitor access to Skyhold.  He needed to gather her social and diplomatic schedules for the next few months to start investigating the venues and prepare the Chargers.  He rubbed his chin, already feeling stubble despite shaving before leaving that morning.

Does he enter himself or not?

Cullen buzzed the intercom one last time, mentally hoping maybe this time she might respond.  One minute passed.  Two minutes.  No answer.  Cullen winced and ran his hand through his mane again, a nervous habit.

“Dammit.”  The officer grumbled, while typing his special code into the keypad.

The reinforced door unlocked automatically.  Cullen turned the door knob and entered the foyer.  He gently allowed the outside door to close behind him, while reviewing the dimly lit hallway.  A few pairs of flip flops and boots laid to the left, while a brown leather jacket hung on a wall hook.  Opposite the shoes were two jeep doors with the tan soft top windows.  The hall’s walls were primarily blank with its metal and brick walls from the original structure.  One new metal door led to the heated full garage.   In front of the ex-templar was the industrial lift, waiting for him.

The thumping noise rattled the older walls as he inched forward.  The high and low tones shifted constantly.  Music.  Was she practicing?  Cullen struggled to determine the instrument through the reinforced walls and ceiling.  He entered the lift, pulled the wooden slated grate down and pressed the green up button.  He felt the old elevator shift and wind as its greased cables raised him upwards.  Rian ordered engineers to not replace the device because his sister enjoyed old industrial devices.  Josephine decorated the interior, commenting Evie liked the antique industrial design, similar to dwarven ruins and mechanics.  Cullen typically ignored the water cooler talk about the project between the Public Relations officer and Leliana.  Thinking now, Cullen wondered that might be why she wanted to live in a warehouse.

Natural light shined through the grate as soon as the second floor slowly appeared.  Fresh autumn air brushed Cullen’s cheeks as his eyes flicked to the open windows.  The warehouse had central air and heat.  Why open the bullet proof glass?  Dammit.  What a security nightmare.   Finally, the lift came to rest on the second floor.  Cullen pushed up the wooden grate with a _thud_ and stepped out.

The whole second floor was open with minimal walls, her personal request.  Old clipped painted bricks formed the outside walls except the wall of open windows overlooking the wharf and lake.  Random old maps of the Deep Roads and vintage metal signs hung on the walls.  Specially placed steel and wooden pools supported the tall metal and wood A-roof, while the skylights brightened darker hidden areas.  A reinforced wooden ladder led to a simple catwalk along the rafters with tight grey cable and varnished wood railings.  A hatch led to the emergency exit to the nearby cliff.  Several bookshelves and a research desk filled the spaced, but did not have any belongings yet.

Antique industrial pendant lights hung over designated areas of the space.  An entry way with some boxes and suitcases lined the wall beside the lift.  A flat-screen television, a suede L-shaped couch, matching loveseat, and a coffee table outlined a living room.   Across the large space, a long bar marked the beginning of an open kitchen, complete with new stainless steel appliances and a subway tile backsplash.  The farm tub sink seemed weird with the whole mechanical vibe.

A huge open space marked the middle of the second floor.  A simple satinless steel desk with a laptop was the only furniture in the middle section.  Bluetooth networking connected the computer to a series of speakers on the ceiling’s wooden beams and the brick walls’ corners.  Tables holding long planters lined the windows’ ledges, waiting for indoor saplings and herbs.  Along the far back wall on a raised dais was a queen size bed with a small end table and hidden storage underneath.  Off the right and behind a new wall was a large bathroom and storage space.

Cullen’s amber eyes fixated on the middle open section where red oak hardwood floors separated the cement and flat rugs of the living and sleeping zones.  The music bounced off the open windows and brick walls, wrapping the man in majestic sound.  The song had a violin over tone with supporting techno-trance beat and humming vocals.  His assumption was wrong.  She was not practicing, but the music could be hers pre-recorded.  The melody was nothing like he had ever heard on the radio or in a pub.

The man’s attention never broke from the figure with her back to him.  She pointed her toes, swinging her left leg up and behind.  Her arms and hands reached behind her to grab her foot and pull it towards her head.  She arched her back and leaned forward, only releasing her back foot as the music shifted.  The beat intensified, sending her into a spin.  She hooped and swayed throughout the open space.  She performed a back walkover with ease, falling to the floor into a full front split.  The dancer was fully aware of her boundaries, easy bending around the wooden and steel supports that littered the open space.  She rose into a yoga position, stretching as the violin held its note.  Years of conditioning and practice allowed her late-twenties body to move like a teen, full of life and vigor. 

Cullen did not expect this; his eyes following her as she pranced and kicked across the hardwood floor with grace and strength.  A bangy wide neck grey light sweatshirt covered her black sport bra and bunched around her elbows.  The secured bra peeked out of the shirt randomly as she bent and flipped.  The sport bra kept her larger B-cup breast in place, but still allowed Cullen to admire their definitive shape from afar.

Every time she performed an ariel, the shirt dropped over her face, exposing her flat stomach and curvy hips.  Maker bless the person who invented spandex yoga pants.  Hers were black cotton, distinguishing themselves from her sun-kissed skin.  They ended at her mid-calf, while special ballet slippers covered her pointed feet.  The stretchy fabric accented her round tight ass and solid thighs.  The man could not find a bit of fat on her tone body.  She was a rubber band that moved and stretched into any position she wished.

Because she moved so quickly and remained facing away from Cullen, he never saw her face.  Her messy dark auburn bun bounced on top of her head, releasing waves and curls every once in a while as she pivoted or spun very quickly.  Her long wavy bangs kept batting her temples and red cheeks.  Hints of green flashed every once in a while.  It surprised as much as entranced him.

Cullen felt himself stiffen and shift to a completely different mindset.

This is not good.

Bro-Code Rule #11:  never look or think about a Bro’s sister _that_ way.

Well...technically it's 'a Bro will not sleep with another Bro's sister.  However, a Bro is allowed to be vocal about her level of attractiveness', but Cullen valued his life and will not chance telling Rian his sister was limber, intoxicating idol!

The security officer immediately coughed and shook his head.  Definitely not thinking about Rian’s sister sexually.  No way.  He beat his high school friends senseless when they leered at Mia and Rosalie that way.  Rian was no different.  Esme will erase his existence digitally if he found out.

Maker, that ass!

_Fuck!_

By then, the music slowed indicating the end of the piece.  She pranced toward the desk with the laptop, grasping something in her hand before bending away.  Cullen took a few steps forward.  Maybe the movement will alert her of his presence.

It did, just not how he expected.

Suddenly, a throwing knife twirled towards him, reflecting natural light into his surprised eyes.  Cullen pivoted left, barely missing the weapon flying past him.  It lounged itself into a wooden support pool behind him at chest level.  It was aimed at his heart.  His hand automatically un-holstered his M1911, disengaged the safety, and aimed at the dancer.  His senses crisped and reached out to read the adversary’s next action.

That’s when his amber eyes met the most vivid bright green orbs.

In his thirty-one years, Cullen has never seen such explosive and shimmering irises as those locked upon his mind.  They distinctively had the Trevelyan swirl, but enveloped his soul like the mythical Veil itself separating the Fade dream world from reality.  They displayed everything she believed, such as her thoughts, intentions, and emotions.  She never needed to utter a word.  Her enchanting eyes said all she needed and wanted.

Those internal thoughts were imprinted across her expressive face.  She had the Trevelyan characteristic high cheek bones with sprinkled faded freckles, similar to Esme’s childish red dots.  Rian and she shared a round strong jaw and pointed chin.  Her forehead was tall and leaned towards her headline, while her nose pulled all her features together into a unique, beautiful face.

Maker’s breath, she was _gorgeous_.

_No._

Cullen read her intentions as the tips of her plump pink lips curled a little.  An impish twinkle blinked across her glimmering eyes.  She began giggling to herself as she rose to a dancer’s start position; her arms to her sides and her left foot perpendicular to her right.  Her chin lowered, slightly nodding, and her lush dark eye lashes fluttered sweetly.

Maker, he was in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] If you know anything about jeeps, it is technically a CJ7 Renegade, but I couldn’t help but put the synonym instead to match the Thedas setting.  This is my husband and I’s favorite wrangler, although my favorite jeep is the old 1990s Cherokees. If I ever came into money, a new Range Rover would be parked in my drive way by the end of the week, while my custom Cherokee was being building from scratch.  Those things go everywhere with little modifications.  *End of geeking out about SUVs.*
> 
> I had to add the Origin's elven mage to the world space somehow, so Surana, Cullen's mabari. Let's just say she is as overprotective of Cullen as Rian and Esme are of Evie. :D!
> 
> The Bro-Code will be a big deal in the story since Cullen and Rian are great friends, so expect other commonly known rules... See: https://brocode.org/


	4. Being Freaky (Evie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Dangerous" by David Guetta (feat. Sam Martin)
> 
> This will be the last chapter for this novella for a while. I am trying to focus on my main story, "Fire in Your Eyes" and another Modern Thedas idea won't leave me alone. It is based on real lifetime experiences from my youth that I always wanted to integrate into a novella. Don't worry! This story will continue, but only periodically update. Okay?

The crimson blush tinting his pale facial skin told Evie she achieved her goal.  His face shifted between grimacing, aching, and surprised.  However, his extended arm grip on his pistol was strong like a steel beam.  The hand gun pointed between her eyes.  The safety was off.  Yet, Evie knew he will not fire.  His finger laid off to the side, demonstrating proper trigger discipline. 

“Welcome, Serah Rutherford.”  Evie’s dignified tone exclaimed as she watched the man relax.  She purposely used that tone when meeting new people and at stupid charity parties where the rich oil tycoons donate 10K so environmentalist will overlook their fracking operations.

The strong mannered voice caused his hard exterior to break.  The officer lowered his weapon slowly, realizing what just took place.  His amber eyes reflected the gears rolling in his head that Evie was testing him.

“Good day, Miss Trevelyan.”  He replied, flipping the pistol’s safety into place and re-holstering his weapon.  His voice was husky, warm, and rough with touches of hard accents like the locals.  A Fereldan, huh.  Yet, there was a slight draw on the word ‘day’ like a Free Marcher.  Strange.  “My apologies for entering unannounced, but I activated the intercom several times with no answer.  As your bodyguard, I suspected foul play.  My mistake.”

Evie huffed a little, keeping her small dainty fake smile.  She tiled her head, while noticing his uneasiness and slight stammer accenting his words.  She made him nervous.  A tall muscular templar with perfectly styled hair jumpy around her?  Oh, she can have fun with this.  Hook, line, and sinker.

“When the music is that enthralling, nothing breaks my concentration.  I thought I could get my morning exercise done before you arrived.  I must have lost track of time.”  Her voice danced and lilted between pitches with keeping the proper etiquette.  She purposely danced and stretched to see his limits.  Maker’s dick, she was so hungover.  Her two cups of coffee did not shake away last night’s drinking, while she played aristocrat at 10:30 in the morning.  Evie will need a long nap and a hot shower to wash off all the steaming bullshit.

“I heard the beats outside.  I figured that was the case.”  There was something warm about his voice that rumbled Evie’s insides and caressed her skin.  She dripped with sweat, but only his pitch kept her from getting chilled by the autumn breeze wafting through the tall windows.

Evie cleared her throat, glancing away.  That is a strange realization.  “Yes.  Well, please refrain from entering without my consent in the future.  I like to keep whatever privacy I am permitted.”

“O-of course.”  He stuttered and nodded.

Keeping her head tilted, Evie enjoyed seeing this ex-templar tense under her glaze.  Since meeting her eyes after the knife throw, he could not directly look her face, preferring to scan the loft or stare at the different textured floors.  She will be first to admit his amber gaze is captivating, warm and inviting like his voice.  Everything about him nearly pulled her forward and enter his personal space.  Her heart pumped a little faster, but she just got done dancing.  That is it.

“Do you know music, Serah?”  Her ear perked to her laptop attached to her Bluetooth sound system.

He rubbed his throat then his neck.  “A little.  I sang in the boys’ choir at church, and my mother enrolled me in piano lessons to try and pursued me not to go a junior high military academy.  It didn’t work.”

“And dance?”

The ex-solider shook his head violently.  “Definitely not.”

Evie’s curled lips grew with each response.  “Oh.  Maybe I can teach you something, no?”  Watching him again swallow nervously and shift between his feet, Evie gestured her hand towards the bar.  “Something to drink, Ser?”

The officer nodded quickly, rubbing his stubble neck.  “Y-yes, please.”

Evie watched him as the man walked towards the metal stools along the bar facing the windows.  Last night’s empty tequila bottle sat by Dorian’s red wine at the bar end.  Thankfully, Evie threw out all the empty cheap beer cans when she woke up.  Her bright green eyes noticed how his broad shoulders struggled to stay back, while his shyness hunch them forward.  He had his dress shirt tailored, shaping his definitive pectoral muscles and slimming cut abdomen.  Unfortunately, an undershirt minimized how much she could see beneath the thin fabric.  Since he rolled up the sleeves, Evie could analyzed his lower arms and biceps with his hand rested on his hips; definitely the textbook definition of a templar officer.  Those cargo khakis accented his solid behind and strong legs. 

If forced to admit under severe distress, Evie will admit this man had a body of a _god_.

It was not like Evie had seen him before. 

The musician awoke in the middle of night.  Her alcohol coma might have forced her to pass out prematurely, but nightmares fought through the intoxicated blood.  Thank goodness Esme nudge her to bed after barfing a few times.  The sound alone forced Dorian to retreat and excuse himself.  The doctor studies dead bodies and yaking makes him sick.  What the fuck.  Esme called the party over.  Adelheid and Sera gathered the remaining beer and declared it could continue at the Dalish woman’s apartment the a few blocks over.  Like a good brother, Esme cleaned up the mess and kissed her unconscious body goodnight.

Yet, her dreams woke Evie four hours later.  There is nothing like being woken up after several drinks and vomiting.  Not only are you still buzzing, but you feel like shit.  Add the fact the nightmare amplified her headache, and Evie was already having a bad early morning.  Furthermore, the dancer’s apprehension of having a new bodyguard bothered her still.  She grabbed her tablet and started searching online about the ex-templar.

Evie hated Fadebook stalking.  She had enough fans doing it to her that committing the act made her nauseous.  Again.  Apparently, the guy never logged in, the last posting was two years ago.  There were at least a dozen posts from a woman named Mia Grieves asking if he was okay and to call.  He did not have Raven, the online limited-character posting social media application.  She had one for promotional purposes, but allowed her agent, Vivienne de Fer, to handle announcements.  Public templar military records just noted he enlisted when he graduated high school.  It listed him as Kirkwall’s knight-commander after his superior died in the Chantry explosion.  He left the Order the same year as Rian.  There were no photos.  Nothing.

Sera did remark he had a stick up his ass.  Her older brother always stated his commander worked too much and took worse care of himself than Rian, which was a feat in itself.  Great.  A work-alcoholic who did not know how to let lose.  That is why Evie’s plan was perfect.  She will annoy and poke this assigned brute until he gave up.  Maybe he will loosen up, but most likely go running to Rian and refuse to protect her.  Rian stated on the phone he trusted no one else with the task.  Without this dude, Evie could be left alone to live her life.

Of course, the dancer suggested the idea to Dorian over text later that morning.  Her bestie just commented good luck and expect pushback.  When she mentioned she wanted to throw a knife and test his reflexes, Dorian pleaded to have video of his reaction.  Once she tells her older brother this Fereldan pointed a gun at her, he will flip his shit and call the whole thing off.

Evie just wished to be left alone.  She wanted her freedom and not have to look over her shoulder every five minutes.  She did not want to place her trust in some person she did not know, forced to rely on him to keep the horrors away.  If life showed her anything, she could only rely on herself, making sure to never be betrayed or harmed.

The dancer graceful waltzed into the new kitchen, smirking a little seeing her farm tub sink, her dream wish in her own kitchen.  Her toes skipped across the hardwood as she rounded the bar edge.  Her hand briefly touched the copper bar outlining the granite top.  The autumn breeze tickled her sticky cheeks.  A strange scent hit her nostrils, nearly calling her to fall over her tangled feet.  It was a musky scent that reminded her of sage burning inside a stone fireplace in a secluded cabin following hours of love making and talking.  A hint of lavender tickled her senses, a perplexing odor from such a macro-man. 

Get a grip, Evie.  Yes, men’s colognes wet your loins faster than fingering, but he is your sworn _enemy_!

“You have to excuse me, but I have not went to the store.”  Evie declared when she reached the refrigerator.  She purposely whiffed her used coffee grounds in the compost bin to neutralize her nose.  “I have apple juice, spring water, or alcohol.  _Lots_ of liquor.”

The officer cleared his throat.  “Water is fine.  I’m on duty.”

Evie nodded, reaching for the filtered water pitcher inside the appliance and the unfiltered apple juice jar.  “Do you have a specific choice of liquor?”

Evie’s right eye caught his confused expression.  “Why do you ask?”

She giggled.  “I have a strange hobby of collecting brews and spirits from throughout Thedas.  I always have at least one high-end of each person’s preference in house, for social purposes.  I want to be a good host.  I will have to order them since the local liquor mart here only has basic brands.”

He laughed once, deep within his chest.  The sound grasped Evie’s soul and ignited a deep flame.  Maker’s buttocks, she might have to get him to chuckle more.  “You haven’t gone to the grocery store, but you know what the liquor mart has in stock.”

“I must keep my priorities straight, Serah.”  Evie grinned, pulling out two crystal glasses from an upper cabinet.  “First sedimentary beings used their barley to brew beer and let fruit ferment.  Nothing has changed since ancient times.”

That got him chuckling.  Evie bit her lower lip to keep her mouth from gapping.  She will make it a life goal to make this person to laugh every second for the rest of her life.  It was refreshing and intoxicating-

-for a templar knight.

The dancer handed the bodyguard the glass of water before pouring her own drink.  She spent that moment studying his face now that he was under one of the industrial pendant lights.  He had striking features:  a strong jaw and chin accented by short stubble that gave a rugged image and defining cheekbones that highlighted his eyes; those amber orbs with specks of gold glazed at her closely and watched every move.  In most cases, such a stare would alarm her and make her furious, but she wanted him focused on her.  It felt like an inviting blanket surrounding her fractured mind and soul.  Most of all, his lips called to be touched, kissed even.  After his laugh simmered, he smirked, making an upper lip scar jump out and captivate her senses.  Why did the urge to lick that scar suddenly overwhelm her?  She might soak through her yoga pants at this rate.

Down, Evie.

Evie quickly took a sip of apple juice before placing both containers back inside the refrigerator.  “Y-you still have not answered my q-question, Commander.”  Fuck, she got tongued tied.  Her etiquette teacher would have beat her comatose if the control freak was near.  Ever after ten years, Evie feared that Orlesian tyrant.

Once again, he smirked.  Thank the Maker Evie’s face fell behind the refrigerator door right then.  The chilly temperature brushed her flushing cheek.  That definitely needed to go away _fast_.

“Whiskey, specifically Starkhaven highland single malt.  Neat.”

The musician prayed those brief moments with her face inside the appliance was enough to relax her flustered features.  The flushing was not from him.  Of course.  She just got done dancing.  She hated that she needed this consultation.  He did not need to be here, dammit.  “Very specific, but I cannot agree more.  Although I am not a whiskey fan, I appreciate people who do not dilute their drinks with ice.”

“Ruins the flavor.”  He replied, rubbing his back neck for the third time since he arrived.  “Why pay money to ruin the taste?  If you want cooler spirits, frost the glass or use those special chilling rocks.”

“I have two chilling sets already in the freezer.”  Evie thumbed behind her.  She leaned against the granite corner top.  She caught herself right then.  She was not allowed to relax.  Silver-spool, pompous ass, Evie.  Be Patricia.  Be Patricia.  _Fuck that cologne or whatever that is!_

“You hold big parties or something?”  The commander asked, while meeting her gaze.

“No.”  Evie sighed.  She pulled out her floppy bun, sick of her bangs batting her face.  The long waves and curls fell down her back.  She could have sworn she saw him watching and nearly reaching out to touch it.  Evie decided to keep the sweaty mess down, another distraction, thus another complaint.  _‘Rian, your head of security kept undressing me his eyes!’_   Although, she kept forcing herself not to do the same to him.  “It is rare for me to find people who I can trust or even enjoys my presence.”

“I find that unbelievable.”  The former knight stated, resting his arms on the bar and leaning forward.  “Your name is on everyone’s lips in Skyhold.”

“New meat, Serah.  I am the new person that everyone wants to meet.”  Evie concluded.  She could not stop herself from rolling her eyes.  Her fake noble act was falling to pieces.  He shattered it when just a few exchanges.  Strange.  It was just easy to speak to him.  Nope, definitely not good.  Warning!  Something is very wrong.  “Furthermore, it does not stop the news from calling my brother a nepotist for appointing family and friends to high executive positions.  My presence in Haven will only add to that controversy, dampening the Inquisition validity especially with your role in my personal welfare.  I purposely kept away to reduce the scrutiny.  Rian has enough issues as it is.  I dislike adding to his troubles.”

“That’s nothing Josephine can’t handle.”  He remarked, waving his hand.  She refused to think of him by his causal name.  Evie needed to be kept restrained at the moment.  She cannot relax or trust this man.  He needs to run back to Skyhold at the end of this meeting, resigning and refusing to hear Rian’s pleas.  “Besides, your brother put that one reporter in her place by challenging her to recommend anyone better to fill his cabinet.  Rian’s gathered the best throughout southern Thedas.  From your dissertation, published articles, activism, and volunteering in war-torn areas, you could join the Inquisition.”

“Wait.  You read my geology research?”  Evie quizzed, completely caught off guard.

“Not completely.”  The ex-templar admitted.  “I skimmed it when I first joined IC interested in lyrium studies.  I reviewed your publications more closely before you arrived.  You know, I thought most theses were about fifty pages.  Yours was over two-hundred.”

Evie grinned, biting her lower lip.  “Yes.  Rian and Esme call me an overachiever.  I even cut parts out of my dissertation because my committee did not want to read so much.”

“I think overachiever is an understatement.”  He laughed again, deep in his chest.  Evie gripped the copper bar tightly; her white knuckles hidden from view.  That low rumble excited her in more ways than allowed.  “You’re a famous dancer, composer, and musician.  You have background knowledge and research on a substance poisoning nations.  Everyone at the base calls me a workaholic, but you might beat me.”

“You have me there.”  Evie tilted her head.  Her bangs swept across her face as her auburn waves fell with gravity over her exposed shoulder.  Immediately, his cheeks blushed and his mouth gapped.  She really needed to throw him for a loop.  One issue burned her mistrusting soul, wishing to guard her older brother from any further pain and suffering.  “I assume your curiosity about my studies stems from the fact you and my brother risk your lives daily?”

That delicious smirk and shimmering eyes instantly disappeared.  She knew that glazed look all too well.  Rian’s eyes dulled every time he looked at his parent’s portraits or an old platoon buddy texts him.  “He’s right that me stopping lyrium is the worst kept secret.”  He muttered under his breath.  “Yes, I convinced Rian to stop, but we agreed to do it together.  What?  Do you believe he should resume?”

Evie quickly shook her head.  “Void, no!  I hate lyrium.  That is why I studied it.”

“Come again?”

Evie smiled, relieved to see him easing again.  Her mind argued she was supposed to chase him away, but her heart refused to use that hundred-yard stare against him.  She has seen that look on Rian’s face since she was a toddler.  This knight also suffered while serving the Order.  That was what was so wrong about the Chantry not supporting their soldiers.  They hooked them on a nasty substance for life and offer no way to escape.  Basic camp never mentioned the addictions and potential outcomes of withdraw.  They just want troops to restrict scholars who just want to help those very same people.

“I am a very passionate person.  Rian or Esme might have told you I have an explosive temper, a family trait I inherited from my father and grandfather.  Our family motto may be ‘Modest in temper, Bold in deed’ but I have yet to meet a Trevelyan who cannot restrain their lashing tongues.  I learn about things that upset me, enrage me even.  I actively overturn any stone to understand and find solutions to those problems.  Relatives believed I researched lyrium and its nastier cousin because I want to control the mining companies.  No, I studied that horrific stuff because I hate it.  It’s poison to scholars who want to keep reading or writing without sleep, and knights that want to be stronger but not put in the time to exercise and eat right.  Those views and many more, Serah, is why I get death threats constantly.  The recent business in Orlais only made everyone aware of my dangerous life.  Orzammar welcomed my research back in the day, until it impacted their profits.  They do not see the aftereffects on the surface populace.  It comes down to the mighty sovereign.  Be gone, everyone else.”

The man’s amber stones shined brightly following Evie’s rant.  She held her hand to her chest, trying to simmer her temper, yet her disdain reached something inside him.  “It is good to have an advocate supporting both sides of the fence, especially after the war.  With that though, your list of adversaries fills multiple files.  That is why I’m here.”

Evie bit her lip and looked away.  She shifted slightly to prepare to hear how her life will be micromanaged.  She watched as her bodyguard reached for his side bag and removed a few items.  He laid several out on the bar for her review.  “Please carry this disguised alert with you at times.  It directly contacts me and gives your GPS coordinates if something happens to you.  You can put it on a necklace chain or keychain.  Just promise to keep it with you at all times.”  It was an amber pendant, very similar to his rich golden eyes.  It was teardrop shaped, but Evie could see a metal shaft running through the middle, an antenna probably.  Great, she is getting tagged like an animal.  “You will need this identification badge to enter and exit the base.  You are already set up in our database as a VIP, and granted proper access to specific areas, such as the administrative floors.  I figure you will like to visit your brothers at work while in town.  While you are in Haven and not at Skyhold, security detail will be light around you to give you some privacy.  Since the Divine gave governance of the holy site to us, we patrol and guard the whole valley and the surrounding mountains.  It irritates Ferelden and Orlais constantly, but just another example of Josephine’s magical tongue-  I mean, her diplomatic relations o-of course.”

Evie grinned watching the soldier wiggled and squirm on the metal stool.  “I understand.”  He recognized her wickedly curled lips.  “I bet you know everyone’s tongue.” 

That really caused him to turn eight shades of embarrassed.  His hand immediately rubbed his neck and shoulder.  “N-no, o-of course not.  I-I do no such thing, I-I promise.”

“I believe you.”  She sassed, giggling under her breath.  He just groaned and rolled his eyes.

“That does not mean you will not be guarded.  Leliana already has agents keeping watch, and if anything alarming occurrences while in Haven, Inquisition troops will escort you place-to-place thereafter.”  He started shuffling through his notes and documents.  “However, I will personally accompany you outside of the mountain range.  That includes your family visits, diplomatic meetings, social events, and any concerts.  I know you do not have anything planned at the moment, but as the gala draws closer, I expect that will change.  If something does arise, please let me know immediately to evaluate the risk and, if approved, can prepare my men.”

“You are the head of security for all IC missions.  How do you plan on escorting me, while doing your job?”  Maybe Evie can persuade him to reconsider the position based on logistics and conflicting schedules.  “You are also paid by the TUA.  Anything beyond that would incite an international audit; funds and manpower used for personal reasons.”

“You do you think I haven’t considered those issues, Miss Trevelyan.”  His voice was stern and direct.  His cut lip ticked a few times.  Evie knew she angered him.  Esme mentioned he was committed to duty and honor like a storybook knight chivalrously protecting a fair maiden.  “Your brother permits me to give some duties to my officers.  He planned on addressing my overwork anyway.  I wasn’t pleased by the suggestion, but this makes the most sense.  Furthermore, your father and brother will be personally financing your security patrol because you will be representing your family as a representative in Orlais, thus I will be paid by House Trevelyan.  I have a group of soldiers that I work closely within IC that will also work events.  When the possibility of additional hours and higher pay came up, they jumped at the chance.”

Evie’s demeanor shifted as the reality that this will happen settled over her confined soul.  “I…do not want to harm you or your men.  I apologize that my situation is discerning and problematic.”

“I should be the one who says that, Miss Trevelyan.”  _Cullen Rutherford_ admitted, pulling her bright green eyes back to his amber hues.  She allowed herself to mentally say this man’s name.  “From the evidence we already collected, you have attackers from many different fronts.  I know about the constantly ringing cellphone from fanatical fans and the threatening e-mails by political enemies.  I know you already changed your number seven times and keep two different phones for personal and arts purposes.  The paparazzi love taking pictures during private moments that later haunt you online.  When family should be protecting you, they pull the rug out underneath you and slander your name.”

“On the drive here, I wondered why I told your brother yes.  Rian will push me, but he will accept if my answer is no following a logical reason.  He wants me to have control of my own life, and I thank him for that opportunity.  After securing this building and gathering intelligence about everything that has happened to you the last six years, I knew you probably feel like a trapped bird who just wants to do good in this world.  That same world cages you and rips any happiness you might hold close.  In good conscious, I cannot stand by and let you be abused and trapped without attempting to lessen the burden.  I know I can make a difference.  I think that is why I said yes.  No one should live like that.”

A single tear ran down Evie’s left eye while her mouth gapped like a fish.  The determination in Cullen’s voice and his proclamation reached the dark corner of Evie’s mind and soul.  Very few people knew what she experienced since born.  At the beginning, everything Evie did was meant to bring joy and relief to people, but that sweetness disappeared when the push back knocked her on her behind.  This person, Commander Cullen Rutherford, who was a recovering lyrium user and a military executive of southern Thedas’ international organization wanted to _save_ her.

“I…I thank you.”  The woman whispered, lost for words.

“It is my honor, Miss Trevelyan.”

Evie waved her hands out in front of her.  Suddenly, the noble persona no longer served its purposes.  She did not want this man to quit this assignment.  Maybe he will be the light at end of a very long, dark, cold tunnel.  He deserved to meet _Evie_. “Please, Evie.  Any name you might have heard in your investigation are just covers or pseudo-names dictating different lives.  Evelyn is a family-specific name.  My friends call me Evie.”

The officer nodded.  “Ev-ie…Doesn’t sound right on the tongue though.  N-not that it isn’t a pretty name.  I-I mean…”  He coughed a few times, while running his hand through his wavy blond hair and rubbed his neck.  “Do you mind…Eve?”

Evie’s heart stopped, leaving her weak in the knees.  No one has ever called her ‘Eve,’ yet in his Fereldan accent and husky, rugged tone it was musical.  Beats and notes suddenly overwhelmed her imagination.  Passé and layouts skipped across her mind’s eyes.  The artist struggled for weeks trying to compose new material and dance routines, and this man saying that name ignited her creativity that will lock her in her studio for _weeks_.

Once regaining her composure, Evie nodded and beamed.  “Only if I may call you Cullen.”

Cullen chuckled and nodded.  “Deal.”


	5. A Hand Full (Cullen/Evie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are excited about a few more chapters to this smutty-fluff fiction. It has been awhile, just been working on my other projects. Enjoy!
> 
> Chapter Song: "The Hell That Is My Life" by Zebrahead
> 
> Some NSFW (Evie and Cullen 's imaginations are very active)

Rian lied worse than Maferath when he betrayed Andraste and sold her out to the Tevinter Imperium.  His best friend told him it would be an easy assignment.  Once Cullen and his team discovered who attempted to assassinate Evie and eliminate the threat, it would all be over and he could return to his usual duties.  It only had been three official days and the former templar wanted to jump out his high tower window.

The task to find the woman’s assassins was the biggest challenge the commander ever took, and that was after keeping Kirkwall from ripping apart at the seams with no leader and little manpower.  It was easier to list who _did not_ want Evie dead.  That list filled one Word document page.  The list of potential threats would fill Inquisition’s entire server database. 

Evelyn Trevelyan gained enemies even before she was born, still in utero when extended members of the house attempted to kill the unborn child and mother.  Once Evie arrived in the world, the attempts continued until that very moment.  Despite being a full blooded sibling, Esme never experienced the amount of backlash as his older sister.  Leliana’s intelligence stated the noble house believed Evie was conceived before wedlock and named a bastard.  Actually, the child was born nearly two months early following Lady Gwen being stabbed by servant ordered and paid handsomely to kill her mistress.

Cullen quickly discovered Evie was a fighter.  She should have died as premature infant, but she fought to live.  Afterwards, the woman dodged and weaved one assassination attempt after another, some assassins from other houses who wished to harm Governor Trevelyan, others saw the little girl as a threat by just existing.  Once Esme was born, the attacks simmered down.  Governor Trevelyan’s three direct blooded children, one of which was a boy, may inherit the house.  Most family members remarked it was all well just as long as it was not Evelyn.

Genetic testing revealed Evie was tolerate to lyrium.  The Chantry’s archaic term for such individuals was the label ‘mage.’  In accordance with Chantry law, the house sent Evie to Ostwick Circle, the Chantry-run academies for lyrium-tolerate people.  The commander oversaw and protected Circles in his templar past.  It was a eugenic institution meant to separate potentially powerful people from the general population.  Most people suffered physical and mental consequences from taking the steroid.  Lyrium-tolerate individual did not suffer the effects and could easily outpace the populace and the Chantry.  Fear and misinformation governed people’s perception of mages, comparing them with demons and the Tevinter Imperium.  Such imprudence led to many forms of abuse within the academies, especially to young children who did not understand why they were separated from their families.  Some such atrocities Cullen committed himself, blinded by hatred and fear following a terrorist kidnapping.  Meredith’s poisonous words still roamed and gnawed his mind even after six years.

Cullen shook his head, pinching his nose to bring him back from the blink.  He leaned on his elbow and waited for the icepick headache to pass.  His office was dark sans one desk lamp.  The glass blinds were drawn so no one could see him forcing back the anxiety and recurring scenes his mind played like a horror movie.

Surana noticed her partner’s anguish.  The hound stood up from her large dog bed under one castle window and laid her head on his black cargo pant knee.  Instantly, Cullen’s free hand rubbed and scratched the war hound behind the ears.  Within minutes, the panic receded and allowed him to focus on the pile of intelligence laying on his mahogany desk.  His mabari remained by his side, her tail swinging back and forth against the industrial carpet just in case he needed her again.

According to Inquisition’s resources, Evie was a good student within the Circle academy, graduating with honors and top of her class. Her altered general education was not easy, purposely toughened by her surrounding cousins who served in the Circles as Chantry sisters or knights.  Rian protected her, but he could not always be there when a cousin cornered her and beat her to the inch of her life.  The other students shunned her, fearing that being near her would invite their wrath.  External death threats lessened, but Trevelyan family members hated that they had a mage in their family.  Potential elevation-opportunity marriages declined for other family members, afraid of passing her genetic mutations to their future aristocratic heirs.  They physically, emotionally, and, psychologically tortured her in retaliation.

The Chantry controls what mages can research and publish, so it was surprising Evie was permitted to study lyrium.  She passed her Harrowing at age seventeen with Rian as her selected knight just in case she went insane under lyrium’s power.  Apparently, other relative templars poisoned her dose, giving her three times the amount of lyrium and added nightshade.  She barely survived, but successfully fulfilled the requirements to be allowed to research outside Circle walls. 

Cullen remembered Rian telling him about Evelyn’s Harrowing back in the day.  He described as her mouth foamed and seizures as the nightshade and toxic levels of lyrium pumped through her body.  His knight-commander refused her brother to assist her, forced to stand and watch for ‘possession.’  Evie only survived because she was an endurance fighter, trained by her brothers to defend herself and built a templar constitution.  She received medical attention once the other knights discovered she was purposely poisoned.  Rian nearly murdered his cousins once he learned the truth.  Ian forced the Chantry to transfer the malcontents to other Circles, finally allowing Evie some peace after so much abuse.

The Ostwick Inquisitor hated the test that barely showed a mage’s ability anymore, purposely designed by the Chantry to keep mages under their control.  For students who refused to participate in the exam, templars and Chantry officials made mages tranquil, a practice that utilized a surgery called a lobotomy.  Essentially, non-medical personnel poke a needle into a mage brain’s frontal lobe, thus making them a vegetable with no emotions.  Yet another abuse Cullen used on innocent people during his military career.  During the war, mage rebels purposely killed tranquil people, finding death was better than being a vegetable. 

Thank the Maker Rian negotiated to stop using lobotomies and drastically changed the Harrowing exam.  The commander now understood more clearly Rian’s passion to alter those practices.  The more Cullen read and heard about Evie’s Harrowing, the more he wanted to rip someone’s throat out.  He could not imagine what it was like for Rian to watch someone he loved poisoned and sabotaged just because she had a gene that allowed her to consume a unique steroid.  The Inquisitor might have not banished the Circle system, but he implemented the right changes to avoid conflict and promoted reforms for generations.

After recovering from her exam, Evie demonstrated she could research lyrium safely.  The religious institution allowed the mage to research the substance, but gave her strict limitations on topics and areas of study.  Evie’s rebellious nature ignored the limits and quickly uncovered the corruption within the blue steroid trade, including her own father’s role in shipping the substance throughout Thedas.  Through her investigations, the scholar gained her next set of adversaries, specifically the Carta.  Her Master’s thesis named several people profiting in Orzammar of side trading and purposely addicting the surface population.  Trevelyan guards saved the woman once in the dwarven capital before Carta hitmen nearly kidnapped and decapitated her head.

Kirkwall occurred during Evie’s doctorate dissertation research, shifting her focus from blue lyrium to red lyrium.  (Cullen noted she was not there originally for research, but during one of her runaway vacations.)  She became one of the first researchers to analyze Varric Thetras’ sliver of red lyrium found during his Deep Road’s archeological dig.  She happened to be in the city when the Chantry bombing occurred and evacuated civilians and refugees to safety.  However, she left within the first two weeks for unknown reasons. 

As Rian mentioned, Evie’s more recent threats resulted from the Mage-Templar War.  The Mage Rebellion, who established a base of revised education and scholarship in Redcliffe, particularly dislike the woman because of her open disagreement and critics to how Fiona Comtois handled the mages’ position.  The splinter templars who never rejoined the Chantry following the war also state their disdain for Cullen’s charge, but neither side has actively attempted to harm Evie.

Lastly and the most frightening menaces was the violinist’s stalkers and holy following.  According to Esme’s digital data, Trevelyan investigations, and Leliana’s rumors, Evie suffered from some of the worst stalking seen in the celebrity world.  Her stance as an up and coming musician grabbed the paparazzi’s attention quickly.  They enjoyed publicizing Evie’s ‘exciting’ life to the masses, hacking her phone and other computer content for any juicy information.  Her first video of Nugtube was one of the highest ranking and viewed recordings on the site.  Since she performed in Kirkwall during the city-states dire riots, many refugees and Kirkwall attendees called her the ‘Herald of Andraste.’  A mage might have bombed the Chantry, but another demonstrated that Andraste and the Maker loved the people.  Her unique melodies and talents carry audiences through their dreams and emotions, much like the Chant of Light.  The Chantry hate her for ‘misleading the flock’, calling her a heretic despite the musician never doing anything to fuel her fanatical fans.  Those same callings earned her adversaries who support the Chantry and attempted to harm the musician.  Both sides have broken into her apartments, stole her personal information, and followed her everywhere she travels.

Cullen ran his hand through his disheveled hair, trying to discern where to begin his investigation.  Does he go back to her birth and undercover if her current threats relate to her youth?  This began as a Trevelyan issue, so he might find those responsible in that family history.  Will he pursue the Carta and Orzammar rogues who do not want their profits hindered by her old research?  Investigating the rebel mages and templars might insight new conflicts with the Inquisition.  Would Chantry lovers break the Chant to destroy a named heretic or is Evie’s own fans responsible for the threats?

The commander leaned back in his leather seat, the springs bouncing him several times under his weight.  He kept rubbing his blood slot eyes.  His whole body wanted him to leave early and pass out for a few hours.  Cullen did not sleep well the night before and a potential nap might bring back his nightmares sooner than he wished.  Surana whined again and licked his callused hand to show her support.

What a damn nightmare.

At the end of his rope, Cullen first decided he needed to thin his general responsibilities.  Who knows how long this bodyguard assignment will last, but the officer will not last long at the current pace.  To handle all avenues, he needed to delegate IC duties to his officers in such a way to not risk the organization.  Even with that, he felt he needed to clone himself thrice over just to feel comfortable.  The only blessing from the whole situation was that he constantly had something occupying him.  He never slept anyway, trying to review everything and prepare accordingly.  Each minute required him to do something.  He collapsed when he could not keep his eyes open.  Exhaustion allowed him to have no nightmares _usually_.

In the Order, such demanding assignments could be solved with a shot of lyrium, maybe two if a knight must serve several shifts like Kirkwall.  The steroid pumped his heart when it wanted to relax.  It helped heighten his consciousness and senses so he never missed anything.  His muscles flexed more with no tension as the blue substance powered his body.  A templar did not need food while riding the high, which was fine.  The drug dampened taste buds so any subsistence tasted like chalk and cardboard.

The day after taking the poison, the hangover and siren call kicked in.  His muscles ached worse than a long workout.  His mind felt like soupy, humid miasma.  It nearly stopped his heart once, forcing him to take his blood pressure constantly.  What better way to avoid the aftereffects than to do another shot…and another.  The addiction begins during their first draught.  The fatigue and pain never ceases during the hangover. 

However in the current situation, the heightened stress exacerbated withdrawal.  Cullen now felt the same hangover but triple the impact.  He never wanted to eat, despite food actually tasting exponentially better after surviving detox.  The migraines were fierce and unrelenting.  Ice-pick headaches thundered through his skull randomly, sending cold aching shocks down his spine and reached his fingertips and toes.  It felt weird with his skin on fire and sweating profusely.

However and absolute inappropriately, Evelyn Trevelyan lingered in his withdraw mind since their first encounter like she was most intoxicating drug, winning easily versus even red lyrium.  Cullen avoided thinking about their initial meeting last Friday.  She twisted him into knots each time she spoke.  At the beginning, he found her proper manner similar to her older sister.  He immediately feared he just agreed to guard the most pompous bitch in Thedas, but as they continued talking, her tone and expressions softened.  It became so easy to speak to her like they had been friends for years, despite him tripping over his own tongue every other sentence.  She never pushed about the lyrium withdrawal, actually explaining why she studied such a disgusting substance.  The migraine that pushed behind his eyes when he arrived was completely gone once he left.  Actually, all lyrium symptoms waned the rest of the day.  His headache medication only dulled most headaches, so her presence played a specific role in his better health.  Cassandra commented he beamed walking throughout Skyhold with his head held high and his raccoon eyes slowly dissipating. 

Surana noticed the shift in Cullen’s step when he emerged out the dancer’s loft.  Evie did not walk him out, mentioning she really needed to shower.  Cullen stuttered like a pre-puberty tween imagining her naked and wet right after their conversation and quickly excused himself.   His length stiffened the longer he envisioned her slick while bending and stretching in the bath.  His mind suggested she would touch herself after their meeting, which only caused him to speed away and run red lights out of Haven.  The war hound smell his clothes closely for the endorphin source.  The officer wondered if she noted Evie’s unique scent, cloves and citrus.  Despite sweating from her extensive limbering exercise, the paired notes flowed from her, especially after her hair fell out of its messy bun.  The combined scents reminded the man of Satinlina, his siblings sitting around the tree smelling his mom’s cooking wafting from the kitchen while playing with their new toys.

Just reminiscing about that consultation, Cullen’s thoughts wandered, fantasizing her entering his office nude and slick from a recent bath.  That iconic orange and clove aroma dispersed throughout the space as she leaned over the desk towards him.  Her auburn waves fell over her bare shoulder like a fiery curtain to block out the outside world.  Those bright green orbs with those lusty long lashes bored into his eyes, his soul.  Bent like so over his papers and notes allowed him to observe her perfect cleavage, his breasts calling from his callused hands to molest each savagely.  Her firm round ass stuck up so he can view both majestic heavenly bodies at once from his executive leather seat.  It will not take much to make her sweat— _scream his name—_ while he had her bent over his desk.  Her legs laid in a horizontal split to demonstrate her dripping wetness, ready for him to rut her again and ag-

_Bring!  Bring!_

“Ugh…”  Cullen groaned, rubbing his face.  His cock twitched in his tented pant crotch.  His three day stubble scrubbed his sweaty palms and filthy brain before reaching for his desk phone’s receiver.  His disgust swayed between his mental behavior and his disdain for being interrupted fantasizing about that goddess’ body. 

There was one thing he hated more than being Evie’s bodyguard—while lusting for her—and that was someone calling his office phone.  He brought the receiver to his right ear,  “Rutherford.”

“C-commander…?”

Cullen winced, knowing that annoying Armanthine accent anywhere.  Correction to his last thought:  he hated Private Jimmy Seaman, his personal assistant, calling his office phone.  It least the private did not run into his office and fall over his boot laces this time.  The buffoon nearly busted his skull on his desk corner last time.  Even if he had, Cullen would have been more annoyed about cleaning up the brain matter than the boy’s death.  “What, Private?”

“T-there is a-a woman at the front g-gate causing a scene-“

“Captain Rylen is on duty right now.  Report to h-“

“H-he is already there, speaking to Lieutenant Hugh.”

Why was Hugh on base?  He is supposed to be shadowing-

-Oh Maker’s breath.

“T-the woman demands your presence, sir, in the lower courtyard.”

Cullen might explode before this personal detail is over.

 

* * *

 

Evie was _pissed._

There were typically stair-step levels for each temper trigger.  Level One included when a bar only stocked low-end, non-aged tequila that would serve better melting ice than consumption.  Level Two required someone calling her “sweet stuff” or “muffin” before having the mouth filled with her fist and their broken teeth.  Level Three meant she heard a relatives call her “bastard” or implied she got her degree by lying on her back and acting like a sex vending machine.  Level Four was reserved for child molesters, rapists, war profiteers, lyrium drug lords, and serial killers for she was willing incinerate every last one of those fuckers.

 But somehow, Commander Cullen Commander skipped all those levels and hit the doorbell on Level Five.  Evie always thought Level Five was reserved for people who forgot to turn off their fucking cell phone, texted, and/or spoke in a movie theater and drivers who never used blinkers.  Apparently, good ole Evie Trevelyan needed to write his name under things/people who will die a long, torturous death involving bees, fire, and a spoon while their soul is blood-magically ripped from their body and turned into an abomination before falling through the Void for all eternity.  Like she did not have eight _billion_ other things to do with her time.

Actually, the musician had _nothing_ but time because of that Fereldan barbarian.  It had been three days— _seventy-two hours_ —and she was about to go postal on his firm, grabbable ass!  Evie froze for a moment to mentally envision that Maker’s gift to His children, before continuing her external and internal screaming.

The final straw on the camel’s back happened just an hour ago.  Her hollering fest would have been sooner if she could _bloody drive!_   Lieutenant Hugh, the assigned guard to escort her around Haven—which was not agreed to by the way—found her hiking up the road towards Skyhold, cussing in Tevene and Dalish under her breath.  Rian should really reprimand his commander and troops.  She could not believe how easy it was to slip undetected out of her loft prison and march towards the fortress without the lieutenant following.  A few old tricks she learned in the Circle academies and she was free.  Too bad those agents were a little more difficult to throw off her scent, but a quick inquiry to find out the scouts’ nationalities, an fortuitous encounter with a Haven resident walking their mabari and a well-placed bottle of Val Foret vintage wine, and her scouts lost the trail.

Except fucking Hugh found her via that damn hidden GPS transmitter.  Evie knew as soon as she put that amber pendant on a silverite chain and modelled it with some of her favorite outfits she should have chucked it into Lake Avvar.  Following a few threats regarding taking a fork and ripping the officer’s ball off and feeding them to Leliana’s nugs, the military escort drove her to Skyhold’s lower compound gate-

-Which is where she still stood screaming insults and curse words like a Free Marcher sailor.  Oh, her seafaring ancestors would be so proud, possibly applauding for her wicked use of “sard.”  However, her yelling garnered an audience, specifically six ex-templars who currently surrounded her.  Flashbacks of the Circle flicked across her brain, only sending her into another colorful ramble of cussing, spitting, and threats. 

A quick glimpse at the templars’ uniform collars notified which was worth the dancer’s time.  Two silverite bars indicated Commander Asshole’s second in command, Captain Rylen.  His accent and unique facial tattoos screamed Starkhaven.  The former templar took great insult when she remarked the city-state’s soccer team played as well as a Pearl whore during the last Free Marches Cup.  She almost used a Blooming Rose whore for the comparison until her memory reminded her how well those men and women butched her Lowtown Docks team of drunks and sailors when she fled to Kirkwall a few years ago.

“The Inquisitor is not here, Dr. Trevelyan!  I’m sorry, but-“ Another ex-templar to her right started before she slammed her lower palm into his nose.  He immediately hollered in pain; blood running down his face and hands.  Lt. Hugh winced, his lips about to save the man from the musician’s wrath.  The poor man learned very quickly his first day in Evie’s presence never to use that name to address her.

“Listen up, you poor excuses of the sperm that actually found your mama’s egg,” Evie yelled at the top of her lungs.  Singing will be a nightmare later.  “First, that is not my name here.  Yes, Rian is my brother, but I worked my ass off at Circle universities as _Dr. Evelyn Monroe_ so I can escape my surname!  You can call me Evelyn or Miss Trevelyan, but _never_ put doctor in front of Trevelyan or the next time you will be shitting my violin strings for months!  Second, I was not asking for the Inquisitor, you bloody castrated horse cock, but his overbearing, oppressive commander, Knight-Commander Buttmunch!  Where in my last five explanations did you get those signals screwed up!?  Did you stand right by a tank mission and lose your damn hearing?!”

“Enough!”

Evie never saw a courtyard filled with personnel clear so quickly when that roar echoed off the new remodeled medieval castle’s masonry.  Even people who were supposed to be in the motor pool and outside escaped before being seen.  The only people who did not break for an exit or back inside a tower were the six ex-templars surrounding the woman.

For all her anger, Evie hesitated for a moment as her bright green eyes followed the commander skipping down the front stairs towards the gathered group, face bright red and fists gripped tight.  Something about his animalistic bellow and fuming demeanor caused a switch in her brain to think how magnificent angry sex would be with that cut specimen holding her down and using that commanding voice.  Thank the Maker, she did not need to fear the asshole discovering her blushing face because she was crimson red from arguing the last ten minutes.

“Knight-Commander Sullen, I’m glad you finally arrived for your disembowelment.”  Evie resumed her fiery once shoving that sexual observation to the back of her mind.  She crossed her arms and tapped her foot against the courtyard stone.  “Were your ears burning while I declared your head would be a good stuck on a pike and displayed across the portcullis?  I would have suggested a hood ornament, but that would mean I _have_ a vehicle!”

Suddenly, Evie heard the most aggressive growl in her existence.  The dancer immediately stepped back and prepared to throw an adjacent soldier forward to trip the white and grey mabari bearing its teeth and digging at the ground.  The war hound hunched back, ready to pounce and give chase.

The surrounding templars all took a step away from Evie, knowing to leave the mabari the kill.  Suddenly, Evie started to wonder if she had updated her will lately.  The commander waved his hand downward.  “Surana, stand down.”  Instantly, the animal sat and waited, its black stare burning through Evie’s furious temper.

The dancer should have known.  Of course the Fereldan commander had a damn mabari.  From how responsive the war hound replied to his order, their match was a true imprint, not a hopeful bound.  “You have a mabari…”  Evie mumbled, her bright green eyes kept locked on the hound.

The ex-templar smirked briefly at his partner.  He loved this, the prick.  “She’s safe.”

“Safe, my ass.”  Evie huffed, shifting her stance.  “Mabaris are extremely intelligent, more so than some of my relatives.”  Evie explained, her ire shifted to a simmer while her eyes studied the sitting grey haired animal.  “A truly beautiful example of married partners for life.”

“You know about the war hounds?”  Cullen questions, his voice wary if her screaming will return at any moment.

“I always wanted one, but my sister stated that it would make me even more barbaric.  You cannot travel Ferelden without seeing each family having the hound.  If she was about to rip my throat out, that means she’s yours.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No…She is fine.”  Evie’s eyes shifted back to him, while her words hissed through her white teeth.  “But you are not!”

“How?”

Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  “Do not give me bullshit, Commander.  Your hands have been poking me since the start!”  She winced momentarily.  Phrasing.

A soldier to her left tried to cover his laugh with a cough.  His commander’s ire shifted to the man.  “Rylen, Hugh, remain.  Everyone else, dismissed!”  His tone shifted to a mutter.  “I’ll handle this bull…”

A nerve in Evie’s lip twitched.  It took all her will power to not kick him in the groin.  She knew the distance she would need to cross to even knee the ass would be closed by that hound faster.

“I want my jeep back!”  She snapped, stomping her sandal foot once.

“All of this over a car?!”  The commander quizzed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Maker’s ass, sometimes Evie wished mages really did have magic or she would rain fire from the heavens right then.  “Not _just_ about my jeep, you asshat!  You know exactly why I’m furious!  That is just one of the many offenses you have committed in just three bloody days!”

“Maker’s breath.”  He exhaled, flipping his hand upward.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mabari be damned, the musician wanted to rip out his spine!  “Where.  Is.  It?!”

“The organization’s carpool are handling some necessary repairs at the moment.  It should be done by Saturday.”

Evie saw red.  Instead of screaming, her voice went sickly sweet and docile.  “There was not anything wrong with it.”  Rylen and Hugh caught the quick shift for what it truly meant.  These men probably had a longtime girlfriend at some point because they both slowly started walking backwards, throwing their leader pleading looks. 

The nitwit missed the warnings.  Instead, the ex-templar double downed on his stupidity.  “Wires hung out from under the dashboard, and the whole undercarriage is exposed.  An assassin could easily tamper with it, which is one of your brother’s top concerns, with good reason.  It may not have been as urgent if you didn’t leave it out.  Park it the garage.”

Evie stomped forward.  “Rian-“

“What about me?”

The commander’s amber eyes blew wide as Evie grinned wickedly.  She twirled on her heel and faked smiled at her big brother who stepped out of his Land Rover at the fortress gate.  After all, Evie and the soldiers blocked his way towards the motor pool.  His sister tilted her head, allowing her auburn waves to fall away from her hunched shoulders.  “Rian, may I suffocate your military officer please?  Perhaps, crave his heart out with a spoon and stab his genitals with a salad fork, twist it, and rip them off to feed to his mabari?”

On cue, the mabari growled and barked at the woman.

Rian blinked a few times, his face stolid.  Only his swirling grey eyes shifted to the commander about three feet in front of them.  “Office.  Now.  Both of you.”

“Rian, let me explain-“  The Fereldan thought Evie’s brother will let him speak, but Rian just held up his hand.

“Cullen, you know how I said I wanted to keep my family jewels?”  The Inquisitor questioned, receiving a perked eyebrow from his sister and his commander.  “I am willing to sacrifice yours to save my own.  Evelyn, Cullen, my office.  _Now!_ ”


	6. Rage Flirting (Evie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "I Put A Spell On You" by Annie Lennox (Originally by Screamin' Jay Hawkins. I also love Sonique's version too, but it isn't on Spotify.)

“Pretentious princess.”

“Commander Lap-Dog.”

“Noble Pain-in-my-Ass.”

“Templar Chantry-Cunt Licker.”

“Pole Dancer.”

“Hound fucker.”

Rian pushed his glass office door open with such force, it buckled on its hinges.  The blinds cracked the glass as it swung high and crashed back like a wrecking ball.  Josephine hissed from her office next door in protest.  “Get in here _now_!”

Cullen took the opportunity of being behind Evie and the farthest away from Rian to spout one last insult.  “Marching Band Wannabe.”

Evie twirled around in the door frame, fist prepared to gut check the prick.  The man must know music relationships well enough to never call a string player a band instrumentalist.  She handled the other slights well because she heard them daily from extended family members.  However, she will not allow this poor excuse of a soldier to get away with such a slur.  “You asshole!” 

Right as the musician reared her hand back, Rian grasped her fist, pulled her backwards, and bent her arm behind her back.  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Cullen simpering.  Without even looking, Rian spat.  “I would wipe that grin off your face, Rutherford, before I let her have her way with you.”

Right on cue, Evie heard Adelheid’s voice down the executive floor hallway call, “Phrasing.”

Rian froze and threw his adoptive sister a frown.  Evie burst out laughing, seeing the blushing horror plastered across the commander’s ugly—but oh so handsome—face.  “Love ya, Addy!”  Evie sang straightening her back in defiance against the overbearing ex-templar.

“Hate you too.”  The Dalish sister cooed, continuing her walk towards Sister Nightingale’s corner office.

Rian poked his head out of the office, still grasping Evie’s arm.  The eldest Trevelyan quickly threw a look at his best friend, still blushing and eying his penned sister.  “No listening, Ad.  Even with the soundproofing, I know what your elven ears can do.”

Adelheid just shrugged unaffected, entering her commanding officer’s suite.  Evie just tapped her brother’s cheek a few times with her free hand once he started walking into his fancy suite with its floor-to-ceiling windows and own sitting area.  “Oh, Rian.  I bet half of Skyhold has fled to Esme’s computer dungeon to listen and watch the whole thing.  You know he has this whole placed bugged and monitored.”

Cullen groaned, pinching his nose.  He flung himself into a cushioned chair in front of Rian’s U-shaped desk.  “She isn’t wrong, Ri.”

Rian finally let go off his sister’s wrist, leaving her beside the other empty guest office chair.  Evie watched her brother continue walking to his leather desk chair behind the desk, noting she had exactly three seconds to easily punch the Fereldan in the shoulder before her brother’s eyes caught her.  By the time Rian faced them again, Cullen threw her a look while rubbing his shoulder, and Evie was seated, legs crossed like a lady, while smiling ear-to-ear.

_Growl._

Evie froze and her bright green eyes turned into saucers hearing the mabari’s growl behind her.  The hound appeared in her peripheral vision beside her master.  She took a seat between the two people’s chair, making sure her tail randomly batted one of Evie’s chair legs.  Cullen’s smugness shifted to his animal partner, scratching her ears lovingly.  The war hound patted in happiness, but kept her glower on the frozen dancer.

“Before we begin, Brother,” Evie hissed through her front teeth, tugging at her shirt collar to disguise her shaking.  “Can you tell your commander’s girlfriend to wait outside?  I fear I will be sick with the kissy faces he keeps giving the dog.”

The hound woofed, while nearly nipping the performer’s flare jean seam.

Rian perked an eyebrow.  “I thought you like mabaris, Evelyn.”

“Apparently, your sister is insecure around Surana’s strong femininity.”  The commander observed; his scarred lip hopped with glee as Evie’s face contoured and burned with fury.

“If that was the case, it would be more towards you.  I never saw a man so vain about his hair in the history of Thedas.”  Evie snapped back, tossing the man’s manicured hair with her right hand forward enough to break the pomade hold.  Surana jumped to her feet paws, barking in retaliation for touching her master.  Instantly, Cullen ran his hands through his head, combing out the unkemptness.

“She has you there, Rutherford.”  Rian chuckled deep in his chest.  The Inquisitor looked as though he was enjoying this in some way, although his scowl overruled his mirth.  His storm grey eyes studied the mabari about to rip off his sister’s hand.  “Perhaps, Surana should wait in your office though.”

Cullen rolled his amber eyes.  “Fine.” He begrudged, standing back up.  On cue, his hound followed behind, her beady eyes still boring into Evie as she trotted out of the office.

Watching as the office door swung close and snapped in place, Evie twirled around in her chair and grasped the cushioned chair arms.  “He took my jeep, Rian!”

Her eldest brother lifted his hand to stop her, but froze half movement.  “Evelyn, whatever-…Wait.  What…?”

Evie wrinkled her nose and scrunched her eyebrows.  Her brow jumped outward making the old scar larger than it really was.  “He towed it away this morning!  I went out to finally go grocery shopping, and it was gone!  I freaked out, thinking someone stole it until I checked the security feed!  The bastard admitted taking it to the motor pool for repairs, claiming it was a security risk with the hanging wires!  All of our work, Ri!”

The future head of House Trevelyan kept a stolid face, but Evie saw that iconic swirl quickening around his pinpoint pupils.  “Did you tell him?”

“I was going to when you arrived.”  Evie kept her tears at bay, feeling the walls around her life closing in, almost smothering the air out of her lungs.  Only her voice indicated her warring emotions.  The anger and fighting endorphins slowly left her muscles and brain, showing the actual pain and anguish hiding below the surface.  “He even remarked I should know better with your family history!”

The office door opened again, heavy boot falls thumping behind the musician towards the seat.  The man grunted and groaned with each step.  Evie shook a little, burying her frightened soul so the commander did not see her weak side.  She turned her head away, pulling out her messy ponytail so her auburn waves could disguise her glossy eyes.

“Where is her jeep?”  Rian snarled at his military officer.  That caused Cullen to stop before sitting down.  Through her wavy curls, Evie noticed him pinching his nose again.  Evie stopped her tongue from saying some sassy.  She recognized those wincing eye lids and clinched jaw.  Lyrium withdrawal headache.  Although Rian did not exhibit those often, when he did it broke Evie’s heart.  That same frightened emotion simmering under Evie’s skin also pined to help Cullen through the drilling ache thundering through the man’s mind.  Her pride and temper kept her from uttering a word of comfort and reassurance though.

“Maker’s breath…”  The commander muttered, only pissing off Evie more.  All sympathy disappeared.  He sat down and leaned forward, throwing her a scowl before speaking again.  “It’s a mess, Rian.  Lt. Hugh notified me of its condition yesterday.  Exposed electrics.  Rust on the undercarriage.  Transmission shift problems.  Engine mounts need replaced.  The only thing that seems good on it is the frame.”

“You had no right to tow it without notifying me!”  Evie hollered, tossing her hair over her shoulder and near beaning him in the eye.

“I am fully away of its problems, Commander, despite my familial history of its risks.”  Rian snapped, weaving and tenting his fingers together while leaning on his desk.  “After all, I did buy it from the junk yard as a gift for Evie passing her Harrowing.”

Evie kept the grin pressing on her facial muscles from showing as she witness the ache across his Fereldan features dissipate into sheer shock.  Somehow, his already pale face blanched farther to the point his skin was transparent.  All he could say was, “Oh.”

“Yes, that’s right!”  Evie yelled, flopping her back against the seat back.  “The first time in my entire youth I got to work on a vehicle with Rian.  First, it was ‘improper’ for a noble lady to be dirty and greasy.  Then, I am sent to the Circle until I could prove I’m not a danger to society!  The only true thing about living here was that I looked forward to work again with my big brother.  But, you tow it off like it should return to the junk yard in which we found it!”

 “Evelyn, he did not know…”  Rian warned before leaning back into his lounging desk chair.  “She is a grease junky like me, Cullen.  Over the last decade, Evie and I have slowly turned that rust bucket into a running, four-wheeling vehicle.  The manual Inline-Six engine would outpace many SUVs on asphalt and off-road.  Yes, it has problems that risked her wellbeing.  We always told friends that was part of its charm.  Repairing it together was part of the deal to bring her here.  She and I have not been able to work on it together in over five years.  We actually have an engine teardown party planned this weekend.” 

Cullen rubbed his face several times.  “Maker…I had no idea.”

Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  “No, I just didn’t request a three-bay garage with lifts and wenches installed in my loft for nothing.  Rian already towed his Nevarran tuk-tuk rickshaw into the first bay over the weekend to begin renovating it.”

“She used to sneak out of the family mansion and help me work on my father’s classics when she was three-year old.  You should have seen her roll around in spilt oil fighting Alistair over a fresh block of mozzarella.”

Cullen blinked a few times.  His eyes shifted between Rian and the fuming woman beside him.  “Alistair…as in Warden-Constable Alistair Theirin.  The same man whose uncle is pressing him to run for president the next election.”

“Is it so hard to see him or me as children?”  Evie snapped, glaring at the military leader.  “His wife, Astrid, was my undergraduate roommate.  I’m why they even met.”  Evie grimaced at the statement, quickly omitting how that same roommate had been her girlfriend at the time.  And Adelheid wondered why Evie never dated woman again.

“Alistair and I attended the military academy together.”  Cullen chuckled, shaking his head.  “I knew he mentioned Esme and Rian a few times, but never you.”

The musician shook her head and grinned.  “I was the reason he even had to go to that boarding school!  He still brings it up when we talk, the goof.  I just say he would have never been a Grey Warden or gotten married if I had not stolen his clothes and broke his bedroom doorknob while he was in shower.  It forced him to waltz around Eamon’s mansion naked during Isolde’s Summer Soiree.  You remember that, Rian?”

Her big brother cackled as few times.  “The boy was a walking bright red light of embarrassment.  It was either the templar academy or an arranged marriage.  Half the single women there asked after him afterwards.  It took the heat off me for a while.”

Cullen burst out laughing, pointing at Evie with a shocked expression.  “That was you!?  All he ever called the vandal was the ‘Underwear Gnome’ when he told cadets the tale.  He convinced half of them it really was a fabled dwarf.”

“That is why I did it!”  Evie joined his hysterics, covering her gapping mouth while chortling.  A beaming smile flashed across her expressive face.  Suddenly, her temper burned away, hearing the bodyguard chuckling again.  The low baritone rumble tremored through her chest like a warm symphony of joy.  Once again, violin solos flowed through her as she wished she was sitting in her sound booth again, composing.  “He hung all my underpants and stockings across the garden on my ninth birthday because he knew my first crush was going to be there!  I refused to go back to Redcliffe Manor for years.  I still cannot forget my favorite pink nug undies flapping up the flagpole!”

“Who was your crush?”  Cullen snickered, wondering if she will answer.  Rian glared at the question, already knowing.  Rian almost punched the man who Evie pined for throughout that summer when he found out, his first major act as a big brother.

“Eamon’s brother, Teagan…”  Evie mumbled, shrinking back into the chair.  Rian huffed, rubbing his eyes.  “And do not judge me, either of you!  He was only like _thrice_ my age.”

“Only…”  The commander repeated between chuckles and smirked.  The sound again made Evie wussy.  Her folds clutched in want for him to do that against her clit.  She needed to get him back.

Evie’s bright green eyes silted; her wickedness evident in her shimmering bright green eyes.  “You were probably no better, Rutherford.  You were probably some girl chaser, and so that is why you went to military boarding school.”

It was Rian turned to burst out laughing, pointing at his best friend like a school yard bully.  Cullen shot him a furious look.  Hints of blush creeped across the ex-templar’s cheeks.  “The family womanizer would be my brother, Branson.”  Cullen corrected her, trying his best not to stammer.

Evie perked an eyebrow at her laughing brother, the hooting low and grinding because of his bass voice.  “Is that the truth?”

Rian slowly settled down, chuckling deep in his chest.  “I’ve only met the guy once, but I know Cullen has as much finesse around women as a storming druffalo herd through a wine cellar.  When you put him and Rylen together, it is no wonder why Rylen goes home with a woman on each arm and the commander is hiding in a bathroom stall, still stuttering like a cartoon cat.”

Cullen scowled at his best friend.  “That happened once and only because you suggested we try to pick up those triples from Cumberland just after mentioning they resembled Rosalie.”  He noticed Evie’s confusion.  She did not know this woman, and for a brief moment, she actually felt jealous?  “That’s my baby sister.”

The jealousy evaporated.  That was unexpected.  Evie shifted in her seat to cover her self-embarrassment before frowning at her brother.  “ _Rian!  Eww!_ ” Evie snapped, lunging forward in her seat.

Quickly seeing his sister’s ire shifting to him, Rian cleared his throat and returned to his stolid Inquisitor persona.  “Although, I understand why you were angry, Evie, the jeep as not worth you disrupting all of Skyhold and yelling like a banshee in the courtyard.”

Evie’s eyes turned to silts, her temper rising just thinking about all the other things Rian’s commander dishonored her with throughout the last three days.  “That was not even the worst, Brother.”

Cullen’s happiness instantly dissipated seeing the smoke rising out of the women’s ears.  “I haven’t done anything.”

“Bullshit.”  Evie shrieked, causing both ex-templars to wince.  “I was under the impression that I would left alone throughout Haven, not have secret observers everywhere I go and my own personal hemorrhoid as an escort.”

“I told you security detail will be light around you while in Haven since we patrol the area.  I myself will not be with you when you travel outside of the area.  I did not say you would not be escorted or watched.”  Cullen explained to both her and her brother, who smiled at his explanation.  Apparently, the orders did not seem invasive to her brother.

“Do they have to follow behind me like ants stealing a picnic basket?”  Evie hollered more at her brother than the Fereldan.  “I cannot even take a hike or run the trails without seeing them running through the bushes and radioing one another.  Furthermore, it just took a bottle of wine and a mabari to direct them elsewhere.”

“Hugh told me what happened while walking here.”  Cullen snarled, noticing her slight towards his men’s professionalism and training.  “They stopped the Haven resident because it was peculiar for you to interact with anyone here and wanted to make sure you weren’t asking for directions.  They thought you believed the wine poisoned after you purchased it, so it was claimed for testing.  I do not appreciate you sneaking out of your loft without Hugh.  He believed you were going to your sister’s and waited a few moments.  When you continued passed her apartment, he followed.”

“With this damn GPS!”  Evie flung the amber pendant around her neck for emphasis.  It circled around the silverite chain and got caught in her long hair and dangling earrings.  “Rian, I’m a bloody tagged animal!  Even Knotts never invaded my privacy like this!”

“GPS units are placed on all VIP people here, Evelyn.”  He lifted his silly Orlesian masks tie up so she saw the silverite tie clasp.  In the center was familiar bar and black stone.  “Every highest associate connected to IC has such a tracker.  It is also a secondary admittance trigger inside Skyhold.  Some operatives cannot demonstrate their connection to us when they visit.  A high security clearance nametag could get them killed if found in their possession during secret missions.  These devices act as a beacon to specialized sensors Esme programed and installed himself.  Very people know this.  I should have insisted one like that for you years ago.  I even suggested an amber pendant because I know that is your favorite gemstone.  You practically wear amber earrings day and night.”  He referenced the same pair of hanging earrings tangled in her hair and chain.  Three smaller yellow, red, and green amber stones hung from a larger orange base stone stud.

Evie had to hold her tongue on that observation.  Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper.  It was not fair to be angry at her brother for believing amber was her favorite gemstone after six years obsessed with the fossilized pine sap.  Yet, he did not knew where that obsession originated or he would have never assumed and probably assassinated the person.

“Do they have to be with me constantly though?”  Evie felt more comfortable arguing about the security detail than the GPS now.  She could not tell Rian that specific dark secret.  “I do not have a personal trainer or choreographer to assist me with my dancing and exercise.  I thought cross-country running would be great, both relaxing and challenging.  I never imagined it would be more stressful than defending my doctorate dissertation to the Divine!”

Before either man could argue her, the musician jumped to her final last straw.  Yes, the commander towed her jeep that morning, but it was not made her rush out of her loft and hike to Skyhold.  “Lastly, it does not excuse this brute making Fesill cry!”

Cullen wrinkled his nose.  “Fesill?  Who’s Fesill?  I did not see her name on any permitted visitor lists.  She needs to be vetted and-“

“-That’s why she is in Ostwick, you bastard!”  Evie jumped out of her seat and nearly blackened his eye with her clinched fist.

“She is Evelyn’s personal assistant, and as important to her as Adelheid was to me when I saved her from the Wycome Massacre.”  Rian explained, sighing and cracking his neck.

Cullen shook his head in defense.  “I’ve never spoken to her.”

“But you lectured Madam de Fer for an hour regarding my schedule and the inability to do almost any press interviews.  Yes, I argue with the Iron Whore about such things anyways.  I always try to get out of them, so my agent thought I put you up to it.  Since that Orlesian whore could not reach me on my work cell, she called Fesill and tore her to shreds!”  Evie’s voice cracked and roughened the more she hollered.  She overturned her chair and stomped towards Rian’s liquor bar.  Like a wonderful man and loving brother, the Inquisitor had her favorite Antivan tequila waiting by a half bottle of Starkhaven whiskey.  She ignored that it was the commander’s favorite drink and poured herself a shot.  The alcohol immediately burned flowing down her throat, informing her that she will not be able to sing for several days because of her assault on her vocal cords.

“I was under the impression that Eve was trying to lay low, away from press.” Cullen defended himself, missing both Evie and Rian blinking at him suddenly calling her ‘Eve.’ 

Thank the Maker she immediately turned away from the men to pour a second shot.  Like the first time he sang that new nickname, Evie nearly melted into a puddle.  Ever since that consultation, Evie spent time trying to replicate the melody that erupted after he said that name, but failed miserably.  Just hearing his slip again brought the melody back.  She quickly attempted to record it to memory.  At this rate, she might have to trick him into saying it while tape recording him just to remember correctly.

“‘Eve.’  Huh.  Never heard you call that, Sister.”  Rian remarked with a cheeky rough tone.  She watched in a hang picture’s glass reflection about how Cullen blushed again and squirmed.  The uneasiness brought a small smile to Evie’s face before downing the shot.

Cullen cleared his throat to disguise his embarrassment.  “Nonetheless, her agent scheduled a performance in two weeks in Denerim at Fort Drake.  Rian, there is no way we properly protect her.  That whole area is dangerous, perfect for a sniper or bomber.”

Evie pivoted, scowling at the solider.  “That concert is to raise funds to rebuild devastated towns in rural Ferelden following the Mage-Templar War.  I volunteered to play for free.  After everything I witnessed during the war, I want to do everything possible to help those affected by the conflict.  Because I can’t assist anyone in Orlais due to that damn gala and the rising conflict, this is the only thing I can do!”

“Either you cancel that concert or the one in Kirkwall one month afterwards!”  Cullen huffed, turning in his seat to meet the drinking musician glaring.  “I only have so many men for such operations.  Until we can pinpoint who is trying to kill you, it is better to keep a low profile.”

“The Kirkwall concert is for the same purpose.  Because it was the epicenter of the war, the city has suffered the most.  No one is helping those starving and sick there forgotten by the Chantry and surrounding nations.  The city-state has been left to decay and disappear even though millions still live there caught in chaos brought by that damn war.  When Varric suggested the concert, I jumped at the opportunity!  He stated it would be like my original performance that made me famous!  Iron Douche thought it could help my image after Redcliffe, bloody bitch not caring about the charity aspect…” 

“Varric?”  Cullen questioned, blinking a few times.  “As in Varric Thetras?  The writer?”

“The very dwarf.”  Evie barked, disbelieving she had to explain herself.  “I started my music career with his talent agency.  He was the one who hired Madam de Turd as my agent.  She handles all my promotion and concerts because I hate arguing with people.  Varric funded my first album, the goof.  He and I are buddies from my time in Kirkwall.”

Rian winced, shaking his head.  Evie knew he hated thinking about what happened to her during her fleeing vacation.  Meanwhile, unaware, the commander rubbed his stubble chin a few times.  “I did not know he was involved in your career.”

“A silent partner in the agency.”  Evie leaned against the liquor bar, tapping her foot.  Evie noticed the commander follow his gaze from her foot up her tight jeans, to her curvy hips, and low scooped green heather grey shirt.  A small flame ignited inside the musician at his hungry body study.  If her brother was not present, she would have pounced him.  She might hate the man, but Maker, the things he made her body do. “He and Hawke were the ones who convinced me to play for the relief workers after the riots.  My career took off because those two filmed the damn show and posted it online.”

“You’re friends with the Governor of Kirkwall, Champion Veronica Hawke?”  Cullen gapped, his attention still on her dancer body.

“I would not say friends, but fellow advocates for human rights and free speech who drink and cause mischief.  Too bad her crazy ex-boyfriend blew up a Chantry, despite being a damn good doctor.  She never did have good taste in men or woman.”  Evie muttered under her breath.

The commander rubbed his neck awkwardly.  “A potential president of Ferelden, your agency is owned by one of the most famous writers in Thedas, and you associate with the Governor of Kirkwall.  Who do you _not_ know?”

Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  “I rubbed shoulders with the Antivan CEOs and honored the Avvar thanes with a traditional fire dances!  Is so difficult for a Trevelyan to know and interact with the highest governments and society in Thedas?  Rian does that daily.”

Rian froze, turning to his computer frantically.  “Speaking of CEOs, I should be on a conference call with one in two minutes.  You two stay here and figure out this stuff.  If I come back and neither one of you have found a resolution, I will personally force you to be locked in a room for the next week with no connection with the outside world!”  With that, the Inquisitor jumped from his seat, marched across the office, and raced out into the hallway.  Both Evie and Cullen heard Josephine panicking as her conference phone continuously rang.

Both remaining people present watched the curtain blinds slam against the cracked glass again.  The moderator of the argument was gone, giving Evie easy access to rip the commander to shreds for everything that has happened.

Instead, she shyly gazed through her bangs at the ex-templar, still with a gapping mouth and uneasiness.  For those few moments, Evie reflected on his physique and hand-combed hair.  She wanted to hate him, but could not.  Yes, he invaded her personal space and insulted her like two kids on a playground.  Yet, as his amber gaze flicked back to her face, she imagined being locked in a very small room with him for a week.  Would that truly be a punishment or a paradise?  All her physical yearning rose to the surface.  She should not feel this way about Rian’s best friend, but even in her disgust, she still wanted to be near him.  It was only a matter of time before Evie jumped him.  Her resolve was breaking.

So, the musician resorted to her old resolution.  She constructed that famous wall she envisioned after falling in love with someone who left her to die.  Evie vowed that day waking in the hospital to truly know someone before carrying them to bed.  She was not a bed hopper anyway, but that past rendezvous burned her.  She knew nothing about this man before her who took away her liberty.  Although, her hopeful heart repeated he had been a part of her family’s lives for years, a linger shadow that had not stepped into sunshine until last Friday.  And oh, how he did shine.  Evie shook her head and huffed.  If basing anything on the commander’s behavior and miscalculations the last three days, she should stay clear of him.  Even good people standing in light cast imposing and scary shadows.

Evie crossed her arms and hung her head.  Why did she just want to walk over to him, sit on his lap, and hug him closely?  Why did her heart and soul carve to feel his muscular body against hers naked and buzzing in euphoria?

Why did Evie prayed to the Maker for Cullen to simply kiss her right then and now?


	7. Makeup Deeds (Cullen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Song of the Caged Bird" by Lindsey Sterling
> 
> So, how is Cullen going to dig himself out of this hole?
> 
> Story utilizes existing events and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition, all owned by Bioware and EA.

 

Cullen never felt more a fool than watching Rian thunder out of his office to take his conference call.  There were several times in the Fereldan’s life he absolutely regretted his actions.  He wished he was more in tune while serving in Kinloch Hold Circle to notice the signs of a student revolt that resulted in a mass shooter murdering many mages and his templar friends.  He wanted to atone for his actions under Knight-Commander Meredith’s direction that resulted in him tearing Kirkwall children away from families and performing lobotomies on mages who were raped and spoke out against their templar assaulters.

So, why did the commander feel his offenses against Evelyn Trevelyan were the worst in his entire military career?  Cullen stared at her leaning against the liquor bar, tapping her foot impatiently like he was should begin apologizing.  Her bright green eyes burned through her bangs, demonstrating her disdain of his existence.  Was his guilt because he overstepped his role as her guardian or was is that she was angry with him?  Cullen trusted he made the best judgement calls regarding Evie’s safety.  He knew what he and his team could and could not support in the next few months.  Rian’s approving nod about her escorts were also a correct decision.  Yes, Cullen should have learned more about the jeep before towing it, but he continuous remembered Rian’s dark stare when he recounted his parents’ death just a few weeks ago.

So, Cullen’s guilty conscience resulted from the dancer being angry with him.  Huh.  Why though?  He barely knew her, only speaking one other time before her blow up.  Yet, he knew a great deal about her from the security file and his best friend.  She was a woman who wanted to help the world, first as a geologist, then an advocate, and lastly a performer.  Rian knew Cullen was a man of duty and protection.  Maybe that was why he felt he failed her by these bad—but completely necessary—decisions.

Evie finally huffed, probably annoyed he had yet to say anything.  She twirled around, grabbed the whiskey tumbler, and poured a glass.  She refilled her tequila shot.  She carried the two liquor glasses across the room.  She shoved one in Cullen’s face, biting her lower lip like it pained her for being generous.

“I’m on duty.”  Cullen declared.  Evie’s cheek twitched, her scowl growing every minute in his presence.  Wrong answer again, Rutherford.  The dancer slammed the glass on Rian’s desk, sloshing the amber liquid all over the wood and some files.  She stomped across the office to stare out the floor-length windows.  She tucked her free hand under her other elbow while taking the shot.  She winced, rubbing her throat.  The singer must have harmed her vocal cords while hollering in the courtyard.  One part of Cullen’s mind called “good,” while the guilt rising in his chest stated, “fix this.”

“I thought I made a good judgement call about your escorts, Eve.”  Cullen stopped speaking, witnessing a brief smile cross the woman’s face.  She tilted an ear towards him, causing her auburn curls to roll off her shoulder. 

There was something majestic about the musician as the commander studied her; her back to him while the Frostbacks’ snow caps bathed her in reflected sunshine.  The red tones in her brown hair glimmered, accenting her olive-tan skin.  Her straight back demonstrated her need to stand up for herself.  Although, her vocal tone signaled she barely controlled her warring emotions.  The sun’s rays displayed her natural curves and athleticism in shadow while against a scene of sky blue and white snow.  Her behind and hips shimmied to and fro as she swayed between her feet like she was about to dance.

Cullen ran his hand through his hair, scolding himself again for looking at her so objectively again.  He could not help it.  Evelyn Trevelyan was a goddess living in the mortal world.  Everything she had done throughout her life was to make other people happy and well.  No one gave her the same kindness, especially her own family, but she still strived to obtained wellbeing for all without asking little in return.  The world took advantage of her good nature, closing her in a cage where she could barely cry and breathe.

The commander placed in that caring woman in a cage too.  Despite his strategic mind arguing it was for her protection, he remembered a quote once by a historical figure that “those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.”[1]  By placing her in such restraints, he robbed her both safety and freedom.  How was he supposed to gain her trust with her life if he robbed her the freedoms that were still available to her?

Reflecting on his view that she was a goddess, Cullen concluded he was the worst person to be in Evie’s presence.  He was a sinner, a blight of a man who took liberty, security, and happiness from anyone who crossed his path.  He worked for over six years to atone by retiring the Order, giving up lyrium, and joining the Inquisition Coalition.  He wished to regain the ability to look himself in the eye.  He told Rian he should not head this assignment, but his best friend insisted.

Maybe this was Rian’s way to test the commander. 

First, the Inquisitor might be examining Cullen’s ability to not objectify his sister.  Cullen pinched his nose at that thought.  He already failed the first moment he saw Evie.  He imagined many people only liked Rian’s sister because of her looks, money, title, and physique.  Cullen, the man who would prefer to go in front of a firing squad instead of speaking to a pretty girl, would be less likely to use Evie inappropriately.  Alas, Rian did not know Cullen until after Kirkwall’s fall.  His best friend had little knowledge about the commander’s bed hopping in combination with drinking and overusing lyrium.  Sex, drugs, and alcohol was Cullen’s only means to bury and handle his torturous experiences prior to the Inquisition.  Yes, he was a better man now, but would he be the proper man not to always gaze on Evie with such lustful eyes?

Secondly, Rian might be testing Cullen’s loyalty and trust.  The two friends served together for years, shielding one another from the world’s horrors, especially during the Templar-Mage War.  They were soldiers with similar lives and choices that cannot be replicated elsewhere.  However, protecting the Inquisitor’s sister was on a different scale of loyalty and trust.  This was a bro trust regarding someone very important to the other bro.  It made sense why Rian gave Cullen this assignment the more Cullen interacted with Evie.  Rian was an over-protective brother who shielded his sister from the crazy world when possible.  Rian felt helpless knowing someone threatened Evie’s life.  Rian may have wished to protect her himself, but the Inquisitor had his own enemies.  Just as Rian trusted Cullen with his own life, the Trevelyan leader believed Cullen will be loyal and dutiful to serve in his place and uncover the truth.

Lastly, and the most likely reason, Rian truly believed Cullen could save Evie from her tight cage.  Somehow throughout the years, the commander investigated and solved many world mysteries, usually through military means.  He had an objective eye and a sharp mind to link and untangle the most peculiar situations.  Alas, Rian forgot that Cassandra, Josephine and Leliana usually aided him and he took the final resolution to end the threat, usually with his M1911.  Rian believed Cullen could properly protect Evie and solve the mysteries on his own.  Cullen just needed a balance between protection and freedom and not be another jailor for the fierce woman.

Several minutes had passed since he stopped himself speaking farther.  In that time, Evie just gazed across the mountains and cupped her empty shot glass.  Cullen picked up the poured whiskey she had provided and took a large gulp, emptying the glass completely.  He made sure his movements indicated his appreciation of her offer.  Her bright green eyes shifted under her bangs at him when he stood and meandered to the liquor cabinet.

“I know now I should have been more detailed on my escort intentions and the GPS tracker.”  Cullen admitted, reaching for the whiskey tumbler again.  “I assumed you were an IC VIP, not a civilian who happened to be Rian’s sister.  The last time I was an official civilian was when I was eighteen, although my sister would argue when I was thirteen.  Being a part of the military and its practices became as natural as breathing.  Throughout the last few years, the military’s order and structure has acted like a security blanket, especially fighting my lyrium addiction.  I forget what it is like to be just a person in the regular world.  I accepted my lifestyle is the norm for everyone.  Our definitions of freedom are like comparing apples and oranges.”

Once refilling his glass, Cullen poured another shot of tequila.  Once collecting the liquor glasses, he waltzed to where Evie stood away from him.  He outstretched the tequila glass into her vision.  “I apologize for the miscommunication.  I would like to try again, if you allow me.”

Evie lifted her head, her gaze on the tequila glass then to his face.  Her mouth gapped, surprised by his apology and explanation.  After a few seconds, she took the shot glass with her free hand, staring at the gold liquor with a small smile.  “I could have also not put Skyhold on full alert too.  I’m pretty sure I broke that templar’s nose and made Hugh piss himself.”

“Keran probably should have had his nose broken at least twice before meeting you.”  Cullen chuckled, watching the woman take the tequila shot.  “He means well, but never had strong common sense.  He got himself caught by rioters and revolutionaries in Kirkwall, not seeing the trap from a mile away.  As for Hugh, he is good man who takes his duty seriously.  He was only following orders from me on escorting you everywhere.”

“Am I so unsafe in Haven?”  Evie whispered, smacking her ruby red lips with the alcohol still lingering along those delicious plump lines.  Her voice was rough and showed some trepidation.  For a brief moment, Cullen envisioned himself leaning over and kissing those glossy lips for his own taste of her and tequila.  He wanted to relieve her potential fears and assure if he was her bodyguard, she will be safe.

Cullen exhaled before taking a sip from his glass.  His eyes and attention remained on Evie’s lips as he lingered to kiss them intensified.  He mentally repeated not to attempt his want.  “Honestly, I don’t know.  It won’t take your enemies long to figure out where you escaped to this time.  Anyone who knows the Trevelyan Family knows Rian is the Inquisitor and the most likely person to protect you until the peace talks.  One reason Haven is not squirmed with fans and adversaries already is that it’s a holy area.  Non-religious media are barred from travelling here without IC permission.  However, it does not stop threats attempting an assassination.  Just protecting Rian alone, Leliana and I uncover frozen bodies and disguised villagers wishing to kill your brother.  A reason why you are followed now is because we have _too_ many leads on who could be after you.  Until we can determine exactly who has committed the most recent threats, I felt having agents shadow you and Hugh’s presence would be both a shield and deterrent to any future attempts.”

Evie bit her lip.  “I don’t know why I felt this place would be safer than Ostwick.  Yes, the family here actually likes me, but in Ostwick, I could walk outside with just Hemingway and Knotts _if_ a guard was necessary.  The locals have not recognized me, but I have always kept a low profile.  If I had not been so drunk in Redcliffe, I would still be in hiding I think.  As for who wants to harm me…”  She squeezed her eyes closed.  “I’m frightened but stubborn.  I want to be left alone, but I want to save people, specifically those harmed in conflict.  In some ways, those two directions conflict and place me in an assassin’s crosshairs.”  The dancer shifted her stance to face Cullen completely.  “Can we find a compromise?  Some way where I can be protected but not so…watched?”

Cullen smirked and nodded.  “I would like that.  I will not call off the agents, but maybe make them more invisible from your gaze?  Like I said, I wanted them to be a deterrent to anyone who might find their way here.  If they are stealthier, it might invite your enemies to attempt a kill.”

“Since the net is catching too much, maybe use me as bait?”  The musician suggested, perking an eyebrow.

The response echoed off the window glass immediately before Cullen could control the brash tone.  “No.”  Evie winced and shuddered.  Cullen reached for his neck and rubbed it a few times.  “I-I meant, the point is to avoid direct assault on you.  Bodyguards prevent a threat, not just protect when a hazard occurs.  If I risked your life, I would be a poor bodyguard…and I’m pretty sure Rian would decapitate me.”

Evie grinned and patted Cullen’s tense shoulder.  “You and me both if he heard I was willing to risk myself.  I’ve done so too many times before.”  She cracked her neck a few times.  “I can agree to have Hugh with me most of the time and just be on silent observation elsewhere.  Just let me enjoy the forest in peace instead on full alert hearing radios and people moving through the brush?”

Cullen laughed a few times, nodding.  “Agreed.  You mentioned before that you had no trainer to assist you here.  Might I suggest Skyhold’s gym?  Many people can assist you there on your strength training, and you do have access via the GPS.  Furthermore, while you on the grounds, you will not tailed or escorted.  You are safest here.”

Evie thought for a few moments before nodding.  “Thanks actually.  I might contact the Nightingale about training with her agents since many work in operations that require being limber and stretching.  I’ve also been pretty bored these last few days, wanting to come to Skyhold to see what my brothers established, but I did not want to interfere.  Do you think I could speak some of the researchers, especially with my knowledge on red lyrium and geology?”

The commander wished he thought of it before, but he assumed Rian might have said something before.  “Absolutely.  Research and Development would really appreciate your input.  They probably know your studies already and just not for the family connection.”

Evie held up the amber pendant containing her GPS unit.  “I guess there is some benefit being tagged like an animal after all.” She winked at him, nearly turning Cullen into a puddle.

“I-I d-don’t want you to think you’re trapped and tagged like an animal, Eve.”  He stammered.

The dancer’s bright green eyes twinkled at his boyish charms.  “Oh, I don’t know.  You might have tricked Rian into thinking you were a skittish boy around women, but I bet you enjoy some hunting and tying up a wild animal, Commander.”

Cullen knew he was red.  His cheeks were blustering hot.  He shifted backwards, taking a huge swig from his glass.  “Maker’s breath, woman…”

Evie burst out laughing, grinning ear to ear at him.  “Maybe _you_ are the wild animal…No woman has tracked and captured you yet based on your bachelorhood.  Who would be up to the challenge, hm?  You act intimidating and serious on the outside, but I bet you purr and play like a lion cub once someone breaches your defenses.”

Cullen smirked and looked away, mentally hoping that such a woman would be Evie.  His thoughts before her hollering crossed his mind, but the roles were reversed.  He being at Evie’s mercy as her flexible body pinned him on the ground.  She could have her way with him any ole way and the Fereldan would enjoy himself immensely.  “Perhaps.”  The commander nearly smacked himself.  Wasn’t he just thinking Rian trusted him with Evie because he would be the least likely person to objectify her?

“Sera always said people in leadership positions always should have _someone_ above them.  You know?  Because positions?”[2]

The ex-templar’s knees nearly gave out on him.  Was she flirting with him?!  If Rian walked in right then, Cullen might die of shock that this amazing woman even gave him a second glance.  The Inquisitor would not need to decapitate him then.

“Sera also tests leadership constantly.  She has a problem with people in specific positions.”  Cullen crooked, trying to remain serious.

“Only if those positions allow her full access to peaches.”

Both adults giggled to themselves, feeling pretty immature for the crude remark despite its truth.  Sera and Cullen never got along, but they shared a brother-sister bond in the field.  She always pranked the commander, while he challenged her skills positively.  It should not surprise Cullen that Evie was friends with the sniper.

“Luckily me, I’m an eggplant.” Cullen kept the immaturity going, enjoying Evie little snorts under her breath from laughing too much.  Her fear and anger seemed to have disappeared by now.

“No, lucky _me_.”

Cullen locked eyes on Evie, his turn to gape in shock and wonderment.  The performer just smiled softly and tilted her head.  Maker’s breath, she _was_ flirting with him!

“I’m truly sorry about the jeep too.”  The commander coughed, trying to regain the purpose of their conversation.  A small grimace caressed her face before she sighed.  “You just kept leaving it out and open, risking for someone to tamper with it.  You mean the world to Rian, and I don’t want my friend losing someone else he cares about, especially under my watch.  Park the vehicle inside?  Please?”

Evie grimaced before giving a smirk.  “Then who will see it all muddy?  An off-road driver loves displaying the dried mud plastered across their jeep.  Even you can let your Range Rover have a few specks of dust, Commander.  Your particular model would love venturing point-to-point across the Frostbacks.  It’s like a mountain goat.”

“That would mean I would actually need to leave my office.”  Cullen groaned, pinching his nose.  He remembered the amount of work sitting on his desk right then.

“One great thing about SUVs and being so remote is pick a direction and just allow yourself to get lost.”  Evie commented, poking his shoulder.  “I can see you’ve never experienced it.  One of these days, I will get us completely lost so you can actually enjoy the scenery without soldiers and reports bugging you.”

“And how do you propose that?”  Cullen perked an eyebrow.  “I am quite stubborn about potentially slacking on my duties.”

Evie shrugged.  “I can be _very_ persuasive.  Another good thing about this GPS, I suppose…”  She twirled the pendant on its chain in front of her face before glancing back at him.  “But, okay.  I’ll hide the jeep when it’s clean.  After we get lost though, you’ll want everyone to see how filthy it can get.”

This woman was twisting him into dangerous—but oh so tantalizing—knots.

Cullen cleared his throat and stiffened his back.  “What about your concerts?”

Evie pouted and crossed her arms.  “I will not cancel them.  They have been planned for months.  I still cannot forgive you for getting Fesill in trouble, but…”  Her eyes locked on his.  Their bright green hue pulsed and sparkled up at him with desperation.  “ _Please_.  They mean so much to me as well as the people it will assist.  I cannot physically help those starving and dying.”  Evie’s bright green eyes glazed over, staring through him than at his face.  “I’ve seen children orphaned by air strikes, the elderly die because they lack the needed medicine, and people’s homes destroyed but they stay because they have nowhere else to go.  How the aristocracy— _me_ —live in luxury while millions suffer.  If I cannot assist them in any way, you might as well just shoot me.  The assassins can just have me because I could never live with myself…”

The bodyguard just blinked and stared at the goddess beside him.  He witnessed tears touching her mascara lashes as she hugged herself closely.  It took all of Cullen’s will to not hold her and comfort this compassionate and selfless person.  Evelyn Trevelyan was an example of a noble person that everyone _should_ be.  Between she, Esme, and Rian, they could solve all the world’s problems.  Yes, they were born from money, but they still remained grounded and help everyone beneath their status.  Most of all, Evie fought her family to keep acting on behalf of the little man.  No wonder she was the representative for Orlesian delegation.

Cullen exhaled and placed his hand on her shoulder.  Evie shuddered, flicking her head towards him.  She tensely waited for his reply.  “I will investigate the sites.  I have friends in other security and police forces that may assist your guards so you can perform.  I cannot guarantee anything, Eve, but I will damn as well try.”

Evie meekly smiled and nodded.  “Thank you…”  Her vocal cracked with tears and gratefulness.  “I know Commissioner Aveline Vallen-Hendyr in Kirkwall.  Say my name and she will be more than happy to lend support.  If you know Alistair, then you know he is a Grey Warden officer.  He may be at the concert in the capital.  Maybe some available wardens can contribute too.  After all, the funds also benefit Blight relief from nearly fifteen years ago.”

The commander smirked and shook his head.  “Oh, I know Aveline well.  She is a person who gets stuff done with no bullshit.  How she hung out with Hawke is beyond me.”

Evie nudged the Fereldan with her hip, immediately exciting Cullen to the point he almost penned her against his side before she swung away.  Or against the window walls.  Either would have meant this amazing woman would be against his body.  “Alcohol and Wicked Grace.  Everyone becomes friends when those factors are involved.”

Cullen shrugged.  “True.”  He exhaled, thinking through all his past failures the last three days.  “Furthermore, in the future, I will call you about changes and new procedures to avoid any conflict.”

“Oh, okay!”  Evie beamed, tilting her head.  She pulled out her smartphone from her back pocket.  “You should give me your number.”

The commander suddenly felt like a giddy teenager.

“I block numbers I don’t recognize because fans and reporters try to directly contact me.”

Oh.

Cullen swallowed, attempting to hide his disappointment.  He reached for his wallet and pulled out his business card.  “This is my work number-“

“-I need your personal number too.  Because you don’t live in your office, right?”  Evie explained, bouncing between her feet.

Cullen smirked as the teenager giddiness returned to his soul.  He took the last drink of his whiskey.  The commander waltzed to his boss’ desk and wrote his other number on the back of the business card.  As he turned around, Evie was leaning over his shoulder, typing the written number into her phone already.  A breeze of orange and clove wafted into Cullen’s nose.  He prayed he did not physically sigh once the majestic scent filled his soul.

Evie hit save on her phone and showed him the screen.  She snatched the business card from his offered hand and smiled.  “I appreciate it.  I promise I will not hound you, but I cannot promise there will not be exotic photos arriving.”  She showed her empty tequila shot glass.  “I’m known to drunk text.”

Oh.  My.  Maker.

“P-please do.  I mean—text or call whenever you need my assistance.”  Cullen sputtered, immediately reaching his neck and rubbing.  “I-I would avoid explicit pictures though.”  He cursed himself for saying that.

The dancer pouted and gave him puppy eyes.  “Awww… You take all the fun out it.  I cannot guarantee it.  Sera enjoys getting nude pics of me as I lose clothing.  I’ve never met a scientist named Solas, but he already seen the girls, poor man.”  She lifted her breasts twice, almost lifting them out of her shirt and into Cullen’s face. 

Suddenly, Cullen wanted access to that elf’s phone.

Evie grinned and twirled away, swaying her hips like a pendulum.  “Until later, Cullen.”

The commander stood slack-jawed hearing his name with her angelic Free Marcher lilt.  Before Cullen could respond, the Inquisitor’s door flung open.  Evie was luckily a few steps away and not smacked by the glass.  Cullen almost hollered at the interloper who nearly hurting his charge, but stayed himself seeing the Inquisitor enter, rumbling his forehead.  Behind him was Surana trotted in, showing her worry that he had not returned swiftly from the meeting.

“Maker, I hate stupid people…There should be a test before becoming a leader of anything.”  Rian muttered, lifting his head.  “Evelyn?  You’re leaving.  I hope that means you two have worked out your differences?”

The Inquisitor’s younger sister smiled and nodded.  “Yup!  I nearly ripped off his handsome head.  No worries now.  We have agreed on some compromises.  Happy purring sister again.  A bonus is that he gave me his number.”  She tapped the Inquisitor’s nose with Cullen’s business card, then patted her brother’s shoulder.  She slowly meandered down the hall back to the elevator, humming an uplifting tune. 

“I will walk you out.  Wait for me at the elevators?”  The Inquisitor slowly stated at the woman waltzing down the executive hallway.  There was something about Rian’s shifting swirling eyes that hinted if he was taking lyrium he would rip Cullen limb from limb.  “Rutherford?”

The commander quickly explained himself.  “It isn’t what you think, Ri.  I gave her my business and personal number so if I call she won’t immediately delete it.  I-I mean, I will call her i-if I want to change something about her protection rotation t-to avoid any further c-confusion.”

The explanation did not break the Inquisitor’s stare as he slowly pivoted away from the doorway.  “Watch it, Rutherford.  That’s my sister you were just eying.”

The commander panicked, wondering if his amber eyes displayed all the dirty thoughts rolling around in his thumping skull.  Yet, his attuned ears would not stop listening to her whistling tune flowing down the hall.  “I would never-  Her safety is all that matters, sir.  You know me.  I’m strictly professional.”

Rian grimaced before he strolled away.  “Good.  Esme’s front lawn can’t fit your flabby body with the others.  Ran out of space.  Mine is saved for her familial adversaries…”

Cullen did not move until Rian disappeared from view and heard Evie’s whistling and Rian’s bass voice being trapped by the metal elevator doors.  Cullen flopped down in the available office chair; his mind panicked and overwhelmed.  The commander leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.  He slowly relaxed his breathing.  His hands cradled his forehead as his mind raced with everything he just experienced.  Surana placed her head on his right knee.  Her big yellow eyes met his widen gaze.  She woofed lowly.

“I know he will castrate me.  Don’t you think I’m trying to block out what Eve would look like naked and pinned against that glass wall.”

Surana whined a little.

“Yes, I know I’m royally _fucked_.”

The grey hound growled roughly.

“Yes, you’re the only girl in my life.  Don’t worry your pretty tail.”

The mabari licked Cullen’s sweaty flushed cheek happily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] A very famous Benjamin Franklin quote from “Reply to the Governor” on November 11, 1755.
> 
> [2] Sera/Inquisitor Dialogue.


	8. Shots (Cullen/Evie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this loads. I have no internet at my house right now, so I am using my cellphone as a hot spot, but I am low on data. I just couldn't wait for you all to read this chapter! Enjoy!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Alcohol" by Barenaked Ladies

Cullen got more work done on Saturday nights than any other day.  The base was typically quiet and calm.  Most researchers, scientists, and other specialists did not work on the weekends.  Soldiers not on duty ventured to Haven for drinks and relaxation.  No one called his office or cellphone.  E-mails and alerts did not pop up every five minutes.  The commander could actually sit and review without interruptions, specifically from his dimwitted assistant, Private Jim Seaman.  He specifically gave Jimmy Saturdays off so Cullen could actually get stuff done.

The executive administration floor was completely dark except the select low security lights and red ‘exit’ signs above the elevator and stairs doors.  Rian usually traveled weekends or worked from his country house by a smaller lake twenty minutes outside Haven.  Josephine typically visited other countries for parties and make connections impossible during the work week.  Cassandra coordinated between the Divine and the Inquisitor, driving between Skyhold and Val Royeaux.  If not needed by either leader, she stayed home and curled up with a good book and a bottle of wine.  The only other executive Cullen might see is Leliana, and she left that afternoon to handle something before going home.  That something could be flying to Tevinter and assassinating some threatening magister or going to the grocery store.  The commander knew when not to ask for specifics.

People suggested over the last few years for the commander to put work requirements aside at least one weekend a month to relax.  His fellow cabinet members knew he had family in South Reach, stating he should drive home and visit.  Cullen mentioned his siblings saw him in holidays and knew his job was labor intensive.  The explanation fooled most people, except Rian.  The Inquisitor knew it was difficult living the civilian life sometimes, but it did not mean Cullen could not reconnect with his family.  He remarked once that Cullen did more with the Trevelyans than his own blood relations.  His best friend knew the struggles of putting past traumas behind, and Rian’s immediate family was familiar with the Templar Order.  Over half of his cousins were knights.  Cullen’s two sisters knew little about that world, and Branson’s brief tour in the Fereldan army reserves barely compared with Kirkwall or Cullen’s prior bases.  The commander believed keeping his worlds separate was better for them.  They did no need to see their brother suffering from withdrawal and visiting a therapist every Tuesday evening.

Surana seemed restless and decided to play fetch by herself up and down the empty corridors.  The mabari tossed her favorite tennis ball down the hall way, the hairy fibers matted in collected dirt, grime, and mabari drool.  She chased after it, nearly avoiding crashing into a wall.  Cullen chuckled to himself every so often when he heard a _thud_ or nails scratching to grip the carpet. 

Soft violin solos sang from his computer speakers, while he rescheduled next month’s guard rotations for Haven and Skyhold to support new operations in Navarra and the Frostback Basin.  The commander decided if he was going to protect Evie, he might has well know what she did and be familiar with her music.  She was not famous like the superstar bard Maryden Halewell, but her growing fan base was loyal.  Evie’s two albums were on Spotify, playing on repeat since he arrived that morning.  Similar artists included Lindsey Sterling and 2Cellos, all together reinventing the use of classical instruments in modern music.  Evie sometimes sang in her songs or collaborated with other vocalists, but she preferred to use other instruments to “sing” instead.  Since she used an electric violin, her tone could shift depending on the desired mimicked string instrument such as a guitar or bass, either electric or acoustic.  Cullen will openly admit he had to read up on her musical techniques to understand the unique tunes.  His musical preference leaned towards classic rock and roll and jazz, but he did not mind her compositions.

The officer now understood why Rian stated her talents can help lyrium withdrawal.  At minimum, it distracted him from the pain or random muscle spasms vibrating through his aching body.  At maximum, it soothed Cullen in a way not thought possible since before the Order.  Many pieces contained slow and warming interludes that actually stopped him slaving over forms and listen closely.  Other tracks bounced and moved to the point he already got up twice and wrestled with Surana until both the hound and he were laughing and panting.  A person could not help but move while listening to the music.

Cullen pinched his nose.  He needed to focus.  Some e-mails were time sensitive and required his immediate response.  He could not do that until he moved around the proper squads so his officers could act accordingly on Monday.  There was no excuse to delay.  No one invaded Skyhold and called him obscene names at the top of her voice.  No one in the last two days accused him with such a hot temper she may explode or sassed him so unforgivingly that he still could not look her brother in the eye without thinking the man may cut off his genitals.

“Bloody minx…”  Cullen muttered under his breath.

_Buzz!_

The commander’s smartphone silently jumped to life on the piled personnel files.  His amber eyes flicked to the device, half expecting to see Mia’s name and photo displayed.  She was the only one who called at such times, finally able to have a social life after putting her three children asleep.  Instead, Hughs’ name blinked with each buzz.  That was not good.  Cullen wondered if his sudden thoughts were intuition that something happened.  While picking up the phone, his thumb pressed the green phone icon and held the speaker to his ear.  “Rutherford.”

“Commander, uh, we have a problem.”

Of course there is.

“What is it, LT?”

“Um…I don’t know how to say it, sir, but Evelyn Trevelyan is…missing?”

Cullen’s amber eyes widened.  All thoughts on schedules and rotations disappeared.  “Report.”

“Nightingale assigned Charter as the charge’s main contact for agents.  A new agent was to scout and report for the weekend night shift, unfamiliar with the client and the detail’s nature.  When Agent Pellane arrived at the loft, the lights were off and the jeep was parked outside.  Given it was 22:00, he believed she must have gone to bed.  After an hour, he reviewed the outside camera footage and discovered she left during shift change on foot.  She did not use the outside light or a flashlight, acting calm and if she would not go far.  The previous agent was unaware because she was stationed farther down the block, per your request.  The agent attempted to call the charge’s cellphone, but his phone number was immediately blocked.  Pellane immediately called me once searching the perimeter, closest hiking path, and nearby streets.”

Shit.  It has not been a week, and they already lost track of Evie.  Again.

“Her sister Adelheid lives two streets over in that new condo complex.  She might have gone there.”  Cullen suggested, pinching his nose.  He briefly remembered her GPS, but her voice kept ringing in his mind that she was a tagged animal caged for everyone to see.  Only Cullen, Esme, or Rian could access the signal, but did the commander _want_ to?

“Negative, sir.  Special Agent Lavellan’s condo is dark too, and her phone’s off.”

Fuck.  Addy only turned off her phone if she was with a lover or sent on an assignment only Leliana knew about.  Cullen unfortunately learned about the lover part because when he first began at IC, Rian called him panicked.  Leliana could not find the Dalish elf.  The Nightingale and Howe trained her well, so no one could track her movements.  After searching the whole night, Addy appeared around dawn walking out of the Skyhold’s officer barracks in only a tank top and panties, smoking some elfroot like she owned the place.

_“What?  She ripped my pants.  I shaved my legs.  The cool air is getting me ready for the next round.  You have a problem with that?”_

Rian apologized to his best friend when Cullen ran away, afraid of the Trevelyan’s wrath for seeing his sister half naked.

Maker, was Evie like that too?

_No, Rutherford._

“Which direction did she turn?  We have external cameras directed both directions down the street.”  Cullen stood up, gathering his keys and turning off his nearby desk lamp.  A quick few clicks saved his draft e-mail and locked his desktop.  He snapped his fingers once.  Within seconds, Surana trotted back to his office, that mangy tennis ball in mouth and ears perked.

“West, towards Telgan Drive.”

“Gear?”

“Sir?”

“What was she wearing?”

“Footage shows…”  Cullen heard a few mouse clicks through the receiver.  “Boots, V-neck white shirt with a khaki canvas jacket, and jeans.”

“Any heel on the boots?”

“Um…brown suede calf-high boot, medium heel.”

Telgan Drive west led towards the main road to the Pilgrim’s Path, but also looped around to Haven’s Main Street’s upper end.  Cullen’s amber eyes glanced as his waterproof sports watch.  00:17.  There were very few places open at that time of night.  She was not dressed to hike or exercise, and her boot heel was high enough that she could not walk far before her feet would ache, even for a dancer.

Cullen locked his office and paced down the dark corridor towards the stairs.  Surana followed closely behind, her ears still perked and nose sniffing around already.  “Keep looking at the street level between the Chantry and Forder Auto until I contact you.  She might respond to my call, and I know a few of her friends.   On scene in t-minus fifteen minutes.”

“Understood, sir.  Hughs Out.”

The call ended, beeps rang into Cullen’s attentive ears.  He skipped several stairs down the backstairs towards Skyhold’s carpool.  Multiple scenarios popped up in his mind to rationally and irrationally explain what may have happened.  Worst case situation was that someone kidnapped her in the dark.  Best case, she was visiting someone and felt like walking there. Cullen wanted to just open the GPS tracker on his phone and know exactly where she travelled, but he wanted to respect her freedom.  However, she broke her promise to allow an agent follow her silently and parking her jeep inside. 

Minding where his feet landed, the officer dialed Evie’s cellphone number.  He found the new local cellphone number from her personnel file before she arrived in Haven, even though he felt creepy and weird after their initial consultation.  He reached the lower parking garages and marched towards his Ranger Rover.  One ring.  Two Rings.  Three-

_"-You just called Evie.  If I haven’t answer, that means I am nowhere near my phone.  If you are a reporter, promptly hang up and shove your phone up your ass.  If you are a stalker or overbearing fan with no sense of privacy, leave your number so I can call you ten thousand times in a week so you know how shitty it is.  Other than that, leave a message.  Thanks.”_

No one can call her boring, that’s for sure.

 _Beep_.

Cullen’s husky voice got caught in his throat, wondering what to say right then.  “Uh, Eve.  Cullen Rutherford.  Your detail lost track of you leaving your loft.  Just determining if you are well.  Please return my call.  Thanks.”

The commander mentally debated if he should call her brothers first before anyone else.  Esme would more likely know where she was before Rian, but quickly remembered the youngest Trevelyan flew to Ostwick to attend a college roommate’s wedding.  The Inquisitor remarked on Friday he had to cancel Evie and he’s gear head party because he felt he was coming down with a cold.  Dorian spoke to her often from how he gossiped around the library and medical wing.  However, Iron Bull just arrived back from Serault, and they were most likely together and _very_ unavailable.  Cullen had no choice.  His thumb typed a text to the Tevinter scientist, while unlocking his SUV.

Maker, he hoped she was okay.

 

* * *

 

Evie slammed down the overturned shot glass on the bar, smacking her lips in sweet satisfaction.  Cabot the bartender respected her need to count the growing row of shot glasses to monitor how many she had throughout the last three hours.  The Singing Maiden was only three blocks from her loft, perfect stumbling distance without risking her or anyone else’s safety.  If she applauded her brother on anything, Rian knew how to properly select where to live within a short distance of a good bar, gas station, pharmacy, and the farmer’s market.  Evie always preferred to walk everywhere, despite having a shadow somewhere recording her activities.  At least they were more elusive since she blew up on the commander.

The commander. 

No, Evie.  Do not go there right now.

“I like you, Boss.”  Iron Bull laughed loudly.  Evie swore she heard the shot glasses clicking from his large chest rumbles.  “You sure know to hold your liquor.”

“Two words:  graduate school.”  Evie giggled, tilting her head to the side.  “No other place can prepare your liver more than graduate school.  Undergrad, you finally reach the drinking age, but you only afford the shit beers and you don’t know your limits.  Graduate school, you’re introduced to good alcohol despite having a tight wallet, but you’re not puking it up on the sidewalk at the end of the night.”

“This coming from the woman who vomited how many times last Thursday from playing beer pong?”  Dorian remarked, sipping his brandy.  Evie could hear his cellphone buzzing, but his attention focused on his Qunari date and the musician.  They would be the only two people texting him at this time of night anyway.

Evie flipped him off.  “Completely wrong state of mind then.”

“Things improving with our handsome commander then?”  The Tevinter doctor cooed.  His moustache danced above his lip curiously.

Evie’s tongue skimmed her white teeth, thinking of how to word her response without sounding wrong or inducing more prurience.  “It’s…interesting.  I got Vivienne to cut back on a few fan meet-ups and interviews to keep my Denerim show.”

Dorian’s eyebrow perked, noting her lack of details and purposeful avoidance.  “That is not what I was asking.”

Sera jumped up onto the bar and sat in some spilled beer, kicking her legs back and forth like a child.  “Miss Quizzy wanna suck his lamppost, innit?”

Evie threw the city elf a look, then glared at her Dalish sister sipping a pilsner beer.  That specific thought had passed her thoughts once or twice while lying in bed, but not seriously considered _too_ much.  “What the fuck have you been telling her?”

Adelheid shrugged.  “Not my fault interns saw you waltzing out of Rian’s office swaying your hips and humming the Templar Order marching song.”

Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  “Please.  I just wanted to torture Rian, thus him beating up that overbearing Fereldan.  You know how overprotective Ri gets when someone looks twice at my rump.”

“You’re still taunting that man, Evie?”  Dorian asked, eye brow still up.  “Do you think throwing a knife at him was enough?”

“What is this about a throwing knife?”  Thom Blackwall, IC’s Grey Warden liaison, called by Dorian from an adjacent stool.  The bar was his typical hang out while off-duty.

“She threw a knife at IC’s top security executive.”  The doctor explained, shaking his head.  “You know, Evie, he told me Monday that when I warned him to watch himself, he did not think it would from a blade.”

“He was fine.”  The musician replied, motioning for another tequila shot.  “Dodged it like a true templar.  Addy and I have done that to Rian for years, a Trevelyan personal greeting.  What would have impressed me would be if he threw it right back.  I already was bent just right to do a back walk over to duck away.  Instead, he pointed his pistol at my head.  I thought Rian was going to freak when I told him.  He just groaned and rubbed his eyes, muttering something about impossible sisters or whatnot.”

Iron Bull nudged her.  “What do you think of Skyhold?”

Evie shrugged, remembering introducing herself to the research division that Thursday after reclaiming her jeep.  “It’s a base.  Dagna’s awesome.  Too bad she couldn’t come out tonight since she was visiting her father in Orzammar.  IC found red lyrium everywhere with no means to dispose of it.  It’s Kirkwall all over again.  Still haven’t run into the Nightingale to organize some training with her cadets, but if she’s worth her salt, I will never see her coming, right?  By the way, thanks for recommending this place, Bull.  I think Cabot and I will be very good friends.”  She nodded towards the stolid bartender as he poured another shot glass of Antivan tequila.  “Flissa’s fish and chips are almost like back home, except the fries are cut wrong.”  She popped a potato fry in her mouth, the last of her late night snack.  “Missing the pickle juice too.”

“No problem.  I figured you needed a few drinks.”  The Qunari continued, watching her closely.  “You miss performing?” 

Despite only having one eye, Evie felt the large man’s gaze on her, not because she was talking, but he read her body language…and maybe mentally undressing her slowly.  He already admitted he had a thing for redheads, even if Evie categorized herself as a brunette.  She had not felt the scrutiny stare since Knotts left her side at the Ostwick airport.  She only met the brute two hours ago, and he already determined a great deal about her just by watching.  Evie will be first to admit she is an open book, but he definitely had spy training, noticing small telling signs that spoke volumes.  She knew about the Qunari from Dorian denying they were fucking and Adelheid running missions—and having sex—with his squad, the Chargers. 

The dancer shifted on her stool, trying to control her buzz-influenced movements.  “I ran off to the Hinterlands, sick of album promotions and Rusty Whore’s bitching about something I said to a magazine.  My loft is a great space to do what I want and start composing again, despite feeling like a prison some days.  I already have a few violin solos and mixes started.  Probably work on that tomorrow.”

_“-cannot find which key major best illustrates his husky voice.  The tempo is right, but the bass line doesn’t introduce the piece’s tone.  Need to hear his laugh again rumbling through my soul.  Shouldn’t focus on him.  Keep on point.  Does he blush like that with anyone else…?”_

“Cole…” Adelheid hissed over her shoulder.  Her dyed white-grey dreaded hair fell over where she had buzzed and braided it over her right ear.  Her two upper ear piercings and earlobe bar shined in the bar’s overhead lights.

Evie quickly took the shot from Cabot’s offering hand and gulped it immediately, giving herself a few seconds to still her face before Dorian commented.  She knew Cole.  He worked beside Esme in cyber security and information technology.  The two men worked as a duo.  Esme hacked from the outside, while Cole infiltrated places to sabotage or access physical technological systems, like hard drives and servers. 

The young man came home to Ostwick several times for holidays because he had nowhere else to go.  Esme looked out for him.  Cole took to Evie very quickly when they met.  The strange man warned her of pending danger before it happened.  He saved her from a poisoned wine glass once, a “funny joke” by her cousin Burton.  According to her baby brother, Cole was found as adolescent in a templar prison, almost starved to death.  The things the knights did to people during the war grossed Evie out.  The experience caused some brain damage that many people now called a psychic gift.  Cole could read emotional thoughts.  Patricia found him creepy and a liar when he read her mind about how she faked orgasms.  Evie just laughed seeing her sister’s husband cussing in Orlesian about it in front of dinner guests.

Cole was not wrong though.  As much as Evie tried, she could not get Cullen Rutherford out of her head.  Ever since their first meeting, a specific tune kept ringing through her heart and soul that she wanted to write and record.  Every attempt was off or not good enough.  After their heated discussion and almost starting a war inside Skyhold Wednesday, she spent her evenings sitting her studio trying to figure it out.  Her mind was clearer, no longer annoyed or put off by his constant micromanaging.  The bodyguard’s scarred smirk or husky rumbling laugh gnawed at her like a musical ear worm.

Evie was not blind.  He was absolutely delicious.  Most templars have fantastic physiques thanks to the lyrium pumping through their veins.  He kept up with the rigorous training since stopping the poison, and it showed quite clearly.  Exercise and health habits were excellent combatants against withdrawal.  Inquisition research proved it and devised regiments for newly detoxing knights.  His tailored pressed dress shirt and tight cargo pants flicked across her mind several times since Wednesday, specifically how quickly her nimble fingers could undress him and run her finger tips down his natural muscular lines to his groin.  Evie was so angry at him, but also extremely horny that she wanted to sit on his lap and lick his scar.  Thank goodness her monthly bleeding governed her emotions before she openly embarrassed herself.

Cullen’s comments and observations about security made sense, although he acted without her consent.  Evie knew the different events she needed to attend were huge and highly risky.  Yet, she refused to let her adversaries govern her choices.  She would not cower afraid, worried that something might happen to her.  The commander already stated it was his duty to protect her and would do so diligently.  They both found an understanding and common ground. He shared his cellphone numbers to avoid communication problems.

How would Evie communicate what she was feeling then?  This man had been a ghost in the wings in almost all conversations she had with Rian for years.  Cullen seemed surprised that she knew Alistair, Varric, and Veronica Hawke.  He never lived in the upper class or celebrity status.  The Trevelyan Family almost collectively knew every noble family and famous person in southern Thedas from generations of networking.  Yet, this Fereldan ex-templar knew Alistair from the military boarding academy.  Everyone knew he was Kirkwall’s knight-commander, thus must have met Hawke and her merry band of lunatics at least once.  The feeling inside her swayed between knowing this man for years and him being a complete stranger to her personally.  In both cases, she wanted to know him more, not as her bodyguard though, and that was what was scaring the shit out her.

Evie Trevelyan was a one-person show.  No one else got near _her_ no matter their relation and role.  Cullen said it best to her brother, his voice echoing down the glass hallway as she walked towards the elevators:

_"…Her safety is all that matters, Sir.  You know me.  I am strictly professional.”_

The woman was a musician.  Her tuned ears hear everything.

Well, except her cellphone evidently.

Evie purposely silenced her cellphone at night now.  That Wednesday evening when she got home, she found herself glancing it half expecting to see some message from him like some young teen who gave her crush her phone number.  Every glimpse only brought disappointment.  After a few peeks, Evie told herself she thought about texting Dorian or her assistant, Fesill.  That only convinced her so far before she reprimanded herself on the actual truth.  She lost count how many times she started a text to Cullen just to scratch her urge to hear from him.  She quickly deleted each, telling herself that he was a bodyguard, not some new guy that caught her gaze.

Cullen Rutherford was a goddamn earworm, the fiend.

Since that night, Evie forced herself to silence her phone and leave it in the bathroom so she would not look at it.  Thursday night she suddenly had to piss more often than normal.  By the end of the evening, she had run the battery down to the point the cellphone shut off.  Friday evening the disappointment and realization won finally.  She missed a call from her mother then, but no longer actively seeked to check the device every moment.  However, she did not trust herself to keep the sound and vibrations on.

“Would you like to comment on that, Sunshine?”  Dorian wickedly sang, finally speaking about Cole’s emotional reading.

“Go sit on Bull’s lamppost and spin, Dorian!”  Evie snapped, suddenly very annoyed and depressed.  To smile again, she attempted to recount her shot glass collection.  It failed miserably.

“Why would I do that!?”  The doctor huffed and glanced around the bar to see if anyone overheard her order.

“You just did before we got here.”  Bull reminded the shocked Tevinter, causing the whole bar to erupt into laughter.  Dorian flicked off everyone, only making the hooting intensify.

“Next round of drinks are on me!”  Evie declared and pointed upward.

Iron Bull stood up, walked around the dumbfounded and embarrassed Dorian, and lifted Evie out of her stool with one arm.  “You’re lying on the bar then?”

Evie burst out laughing, promptly lifting her white V-neck shirt, exposing her belly button.  “You can’t get a good drink out of this thing.  Too small!”

“Who said anything about your belly button?”

That got both Sera and Addy snickering, thumping their fists and hands on the bar.  Dorian giggled, amused by the sudden sexual tension rising between his lover and best friend.  Blackwall quickly grabbed his beer and gulped the contents to block his red, surprised face.  Cabot just blinked and wiped off a place on the bar just in case.

Evie quickly pecked the Qunari’s cheek.  “I usually require a dinner and a movie first, or are you more traditional Qunari?  Fuck and ask for names later?”

Bull winked.  “I can do both.  We screw, then dinner and a movie.  More fucking afterwards.  Gets the more important stuff done first, you know?”

Evie, still held up in only Iron Bull’s right arm, tapped her lips and thought.  “A man of action, huh?  Well, I don’t know.  I usually need _lots_ of exercise to work up an appetite.  You up for the challenge?”

Iron Bull beamed.  Suddenly, the Qunari tossed Evie over his shoulder with general ease so her tight jean ass stuck out for the whole bar.  People whistled and called as Bull walked towards the front door.  “It’s been good, Kadan, but this woman has won my heart.”

Dorian waved, not even turning to watch the butt show.  “She does that, Amatus.”

“Don’t screw her in half.”  Adelheid advised, not watching the Qunari carry her drunk sister to the entrance.  “And watch out.  She’s a biter.”

Bull smacked Evie’s bum.  “Really?”

Evie gave a peace sign over her head.  “Yup!”

That really made the brute burst out laughing.  Evie’s whole core vibrated, igniting that inner flame.  Her buzzing mind immediately thought of that Fereldan’s husky, warming laugh. 

_No, Evie!_

“Hey, Commander.”

Evie froze, her bright green eyes widening, processing the Qunari’s statement.  She grabbed Bull’s right horn, pulling her upper body around to see above his head.  She could not believe her swirling eyes.  Standing in front Bull was Cullen, amber eyes as big as hers in the bar’s doorway with Evie’s butt nearly in his face.  Why was he here?!  Dorian mentioned he never did anything fun, especially on a Saturday night!  All the musician could do was half wave, lost for words.

“Maker’s breath, Eve!”  The bodyguard grunted, diverting his amber eyes while his cheeks redden that cute crimson that highlighted his strong facial features.  “You know how long everyone has been looking for you?”

Like a gentlemen, Iron Bull turned around so Evie did not need to bend and talk to the new arrival.  Evie rested her cheek on her bent elbow pressed against the brute’s shoulder blade.  She shrugged.  “I didn’t know I was missing.”

“Maker’s breath…”  He sighed, pinching his nose.  “I thought someone kidnapped you.  Your escort missed you walking out of your loft.  Hughs called me, and we’ve been driving the area looking for you.”

“Sorry…?  _OUCH!_ ”  Evie replied before someone smacked her ass _hard_.  She pushed Bull’s head so he could drop her.  She rolled off his shoulder and chased after Sera.  The crazy elf squeaked and giggled in defense.

Cullen watched the two drunks raced around the pool tables, around and behind the bar, and jumped over the surface.  Evie stumbled over her empty stool and fell into Cullen’s quickly reacting arms, her chin nearly catching his belt buckle.  Sera skipped away, whistling happily and proudly.  Evie laughed and smacked his Henley grey shirt a few times, ignoring the sudden wafts of sage and lavender tickling her senses.  Her tipsy mind thought about lampposts as she cackled into his hard abdomen.

The commander huffed, rolling his warm whiskey eyes.  He nudged the violinist towards the bar, reaching down to pick up the overturned wooden stool along the way.  His eyes flicked to Dorian.  “How many has she had?”

Iron Bull returned to the Tevinter’s side, already seeing a new mug of Maraas-lok waiting for him.  The doctor leaned against the bar, sipping his brandy.  He pointed to the row of shot glasses.  Cullen successfully got Evie back in the seat only before she slumped onto his left shoulder.  The bridge of her nose fell perfectly into the crook of Cullen’s neck like two perfect puzzle pieces.  Dorian perked an eyebrow at her.  Caught in her hidden closeness, Evie’s face slid down the officer’s chest.  She could sit up on her own, but she used her inebriated state to stay close to the ex-templar. 

The dancer gripped her bodyguard’s shirt and whiffed his scent directly from his clothes.  His amber orbs silted while he counted the glasses.  “Seven?!”

Evie tiled her chin upward, hitting her nose against his stubbly chin.  “My record is eleven in three hours without me vomiting afterwards.”  Her right hand slipped up around his neck, while her left remained gripped onto his unbuttoned long john fabric shirt.  From her tightening grip, he wore a white undershirt tucked into his relaxed fit dark jeans.  One good tug upwards, she could have both off in a second.  His utility belt and jeans brass button would take her curious fingers about three seconds.  Was he a boxers or briefs kind of guy?  Commando to fit his commanding role?!  Quick and easy access then.  “Cabot, remember drinks for everyone.  I’m behind on my count.  The commander likes Starkhaven whiskey, neat.”

Cullen stilled himself.  Evie could not tell if it was her proximity in his personal space or the shock in her drunken state she remembered his drink of choice.  Maybe he was like Cole and could read her thoughts.  That would make things both frightening and interesting.  Skip the whole “do we like each other” and jump right into bed to finally satisfy that gnawing itch he had kindled in her since they met. 

The commander gulped, grasping her fisted fingers entangled around his quilted shirt.  His large hands were callused.  Oh, that would feel _good_ along her skin and elsewhere.  Wasn’t she trying to not think about him?  Maker’s arse, how can she _not_ wonder about him?!  “Oh no.  I think you’ve had enough.  I’m getting you home.”

Evie, whose head was still right under his chin, whined and pouted.  “Oh come on!  Join us and live a little, Commander Tight Pants.”

Cullen took a step back, tugging her left hand away from him.  Her amber eyes burned into hers.  “No.  You’re drunk.  You need to go home.”

“Oh relax, Commander.”  Blackwall called from his seat.  “No one has seen you outside the base in weeks.  Have a drink and then take her home to sleep it off.”

“Yeah, stop being such a hard arse!”  Sera added, slapping Blackwall in the shoulder.  “Listen to your bearded elder!”

 “Watch your mouth, elf.”

Dorian tipped his brandy glass once Cabot refilled it.  “Cullen, she is nowhere near drunk, just finally enjoying some time without someone asking for her autography.”

“Yeah, Sir.”  Bull joined in with his say.  “One more glass, and she’ll go willingly, right?”

Evie shook her head really quickly, her auburn hair bounced against her shoulders and back.  “Yup!  I will come willingly.”

“Phrasing.”  Adelheid deadpanned, not even turning towards the man still holding her adoptive sister’s left hand.

Cullen winced and flushed brightly, registering the Dalish woman’s statement.  He dropped his grasp on Evie’s fingers, took a few steps back again, and ran his hand through his blond hair.  The musician could see the contemplation and urges rising up inside the commander as he exhaled and glanced around the bar.  After a few moments and a relenting gaze at her, he pivoted on his heel and walked towards the bar front door.  “Fine.  I’ll be right back.  Surana’s in my car.  I’ve got to call Hughs and Pallene and tell them I found you.  Give me a minute.”  Mob peer pressure won him over.

The whole party stomped and whistled as they watched the blushing tall ex-knight leave the pub.  Evie twirled around on her stool, clapping happily.  “Thanks, everyone!”

Dorian turned around, nudging Evie in the side.  “I know you’re not drunk, but boy did you hold onto his shirt tightly and _play_ drunk.”

Evie bit her lower lip, eying her best friend.  “So!  You would too if he thought you were kidnapped.  Just had to show him I was alive and well, thank you!”

“If she was smart, she would have let him take her home.”  Adelheid called, silently thanking the bartender for the new pint of beer.

Evie’s eyebrow perked, her internal thoughts of how to suss out the man’s evening intentions towards her already.  “Why’s that?”

The Dalish’s blue grey eyes glanced her direction.  A small smirk curled her lips, making her freckles pop out across her pale face.  “Because you might have broken your dry spell.”

The musician nearly fell out of her stool.  Dorian burst out laughing, and she grabbed his shoulders to still herself.  Evie quickly regained her bearings to fire back.  “Who said I still won’t?!”

“Because he never tries anything like that after having any alcohol, a personal rule after Kirkwall.”

Sonofabitch.

Evie just took a deep breath, hearing the bar door open and close behind her.  Clicking dog nails followed the sound of a pair of boots.  “Pfft.  Let I would ever want him anyways…”

“Keep telling yourself that, Dear Sister.”  Adelheid casually commented, sipping her beer like she did not have a care in the world.

Sonofabitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone catch the nod to "Firefly"? It's my husband's favorite show, but he and our friends call me a "Purple Belly" because I complain about it all the time. :P


	9. Going Deep (Cullen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "In the Shadow, In the Light" by Enigma (This song just matches with the mood happening throughout this chapter, and the lyrics...perfect!)
> 
> Some more "Handle With Care" goodness for you all. This has been a good few days of writing. Having no internet can do that to a writer. Loving every bit.
> 
> This might one of my most favorite chapters I have ever written, both fan fiction and original novels. I have edited it for months because of changing things with the plot, but each time it just kept reaching a different level. Grammar might still stink because I was adding paragraphs even up to now. Everything has meaning somehow. The atmosphere is thick, juicy, and tantalizing.
> 
> I hope you agree?

One drink turned into three over the next two hours.

Cullen hated drinking and needing to drive later, so he made sure to drink lots of water and got a ham and cheese sub.  Flissa added an apple pie to the meal.  He was unaware ever telling the barmaid that was his favorite dessert.  He rarely came to the Singing Maiden and was surprised she even remembered him.  Cole assisted her cleaning up the kitchen, and knowing his ability to pick up people’s thoughts, he must have told her Cullen had a hankering that night.

Dorian moved down a seat so the commander could sit between the Tevinter and Evie.  Cullen mentioned he wanted to keep an eye on the musician, and Dorian just rolled his eyes and muttered he was a terrible liar.  It was true.  He walked into the bar, immediately seeing her round firm behind in his face as she was slung over Iron Bull’s shoulder.  He barely got her sitting again in a stool without her hanging onto his Henley long sleeve shirt for dear life.  He continued to ignore how her wavy curly hair tickled his cheek, the soft caress of her nose across his neck, and the aroma of orange and cloves wafting into his nose.  The combination still lingered on his clothing, a constant reminder throughout the evening of how wonderfully close she had been to his body.

Evie kept to her word, only having one more shot before preferring ginger ale and water.  Cabot cleaned up of her line of shot glasses once it became evident she would not be adding anymore.  She added Cullen’s order onto her bill, ignoring his protests to pay his own.  The woman also told Cabot to give him the top-shelf whiskey, not any low-end.  She stated it was the least she could do forcing him to come out and search for her in the middle of the night.  Evie remarked she was surprised he did not alert the whole Inquisition and scorched the whole valley to locate her.  Cullen kept saying it was the agent’s fault for losing their target, somewhat embarrassed and angered by the shadow’s incompetence.  Leliana will hear about it on Monday.  Mentally, he actually was somewhat happy that they did contact him. 

The commander will never admit aloud, but it was some of the most fun he had in years.  He talked with Blackwall and Dorian, played pool with Iron Bull and Adelheid, and watched Evie get Sera back for spanking her by locking her in the men’s bathroom with Oghren, the local drunk.  Even Surana enjoyed the bar patrons, specifically Cole, who tossed her strips of bacon and threw her tennis ball throughout the whole building. 

Throughout those hours, Cullen rarely stuttered or blushed while talking to the dancer.  They laughed and joked constantly like they had known each other for years.  He only stumbled over himself when she took off her brown leather jacket and leaned over while playing pool.  Her sun-kissed skin made the white shirt look see through.  V-neck cut directed his gaze downward and accented her round breasts.  Bent over, her dark green satin push up bar and perky mounds were viewable.  The GPS teardrop amber pendant Cullen had given her kept dancing in and out of the V-neck.  She would tuck it down inside to make a pool shot.  However, when she was talking in front the commander, he could be seen nestled between those heavenly breasts.  All of it left little to the imagination, something for the commander to ponder about alone later.  _Very_ alone.

At closing time, Cullen offered Sera and Adelheid a ride on the way to Evie’s loft, but they declined, instead choosing to chill in the bed of Iron Bull’s truck, wishing to stare up at stars in the clear autumn sky and smoke an elfroot jolt.  Surana and Evie glared at one another for a five minutes on who would get the front seat until Cullen told them both to sit in the back as punishment for their immaturity.  Even then, the mabari and Rian’s sister barked and bickered at each other over bad breath and hogging the back seat.  Cullen threatened to leave them both on the side of road if they did not stop.

The woofs and whining continued as the war hound and musician entered the warehouse lift.  Cullen pulled down the wooden grate and pushed the green button to reach the warehouse’s second floor.  Surana sat at his feet and leaned against his jean leg panting.  The mabari kept staring down Evie’s bright green eyes like she needed to demonstrate he was hers.

Evie leaned against the wooden and metal wall with her hands in her jean pockets unamused by the hound’s possessive nature.  Cullen could tell she was trying to think of something to say to get the last word in edgewise.  “Give up.  She will keep barking no matter what you say.”

Evie rolled those beautiful bright green eyes.  “Challenged accepted.”

Cullen chuckled, reaching down to scratch the war hound’s head and ears.  “Please don’t.  She’ll just get all wound up and won’t fall asleep.”

“She keeps you up?”

Cullen sighed, running his hand through his disheveled blond hair.  “No, I do that on my own.”

“I know how that is.”  Evie groaned, reaching into her jacket pocket.  She pulled out her cellphone and glanced at the screen.  “You called me…?” 

If it was not for the lift’s low single light, he could have sworn Cullen saw her grin briefly.  “Yes, I was trying to reach you when no one could locate you.”  Right then the lift reached the loft’s second floor and whined to a stop.

“Oh.  Sorry.”  Her voice demonstrated her disappointment.  Was it for pulling him away from work or actually missing a chance to speak to him, Cullen did not know for sure.

Cullen pulled the wooden grate up and stepped out.  “No problem.  I’m just glad you’re okay.”

In all accounts, Cullen should have just walked her to the loft’s outside door and left right afterwards.  Yet, he did not want to leave her.  Her stumbling and goofy drunkenness was gone.  However, since thinking something terrible happened to her, he needed to make sure she was home and secure.  Well, she was now.  All he needed to do was turn around, wave goodbye, and lock the outside door on his way out.  Cullen stated to Hugh that he would text when a patrol needed to swing by and watch the warehouse until the next shift.  So why did he continued inward?

“Did you get interrupted doing something?”  She asked, following him and the hound into the living space.

“No.  I was at my office handling some e-mails and time-sensitive requests.”

Evie huffed once, waltzing into the kitchen.  She shook off her leather jacket and tossed it over a bar stool.  “You were at _work?”_

Cullen watched her from the middle of the loft.  She reached into her cabinets for a bowl and filled it with tap water.  “Yes.  So?”

The dancer shook her head, dumbfounded.  She motioned to Surana and set the bowl down on the floor by the bar’s metal stools.  “It’s Saturday night!”

Cullen shrugged.  His amber eyes followed her as she opened the refrigerator.  “No one’s around.  I actually get stuff done.”

“Something to drink?”  Evie asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“You think you’ve had enough tequila?”

“I meant non-alcoholic, thank you!”  She sassed, giving him the evil eye.  “Tea?”

“Tea’s fine.”  Cullen replied, smiling softly.  He should leave instead of standing in the middle of her loft at three am accepting hot tea.  What had gotten into him?  Rian will murder him and chop up his body at this rate.

“I’ll make sure it’s not caffeinated.”  Evie added, filling her stainless steel kettle with water.  She flicked a gas burner on to heat the water.

“Like I said.  I don’t really sleep, so that won’t matter.”

“I know.  So not to aggravate your symptoms.”

Cullen stood with his mouth gapping, studying the dancer as she swayed and weaved through her dark kitchen with ease.  It should have not surprised him.  She researched lyrium and her brother as going through withdrawal too.  Yet, the gesture warmed his soul.  He was not used to someone knowing ways to make his personal struggle easier.  The ex-templar spent the last few years stammering through short explanations for not drinking caffeine or avoiding specific foods.  Evie already knew, most likely used to Rian’s own torment.  However, Rian and Cullen’s withdrawals differed in many ways, specifically on night terrors and inability to speak about them with people.

“Any type you want?”  Evie questioned, referring the open cabinet where the boxes and tins of tea lined two shelves.

Cullen chuckled and shook his head.  Surana glanced up at him from the water dish, wondering what he thought was so funny.  “It looks like you went to the store.”

Evie beamed.  “No, these came from Ostwick.  I love tea and have a type for every ailment.  And yes, I got to the store, but I stupidly forgot coffee for the mornings.  I spent the last two days driving through that local coffee house for the largest coffee available before going anywhere.  I always forget to stop by the market on the way home, too exhausted or lazy I guess.  No matter how much alcohol I drink, I always suffer from a hangover.  Maker’s loins, this is going to suck later.”

The commander continued to cackle.  Right then, she gazed at him, her bright green eyes warm and sparkling across the loft.  A small genuine smile dressed Evie’s plump lips.  He did not know what brought that expression to her face, but he thanked the Maker for it.

Cullen nearly forgot to reply.  “Uh…lavender, if you have it?”

“Lavender specifically or earl grey?”

“Just lavender.”

That gorgeous smile grew larger, glowing across her flushed face.  She tilted her head, causing her bangs to cup her faintly freckled cheekbones.  “Lavender, it is.  Have a seat and make yourself at home.  This will take a few minutes.”

The officer could not.  He kept telling himself to decline and leave.  When Surana finished lapping up water, she wandered over to the suede couch, jumped up, and laid down her head.  She took Evie’s invitation to heart.  Her tennis ball fell out of her jowls like she owned the place.

“Surana, get down.”  Cullen hissed, somewhat wishing his hound would pressure him to leave.  The mabari’s big black and yellow eyes just glared at him, blinking slowly showing she was ready for a long nap.  The animal seemed to tell him to settle down and enjoy himself for once.

“She’s fine.”  Evie giggled, waving her hand towards the living area.  “I don’t have any allergies.  I would have a pet if I wasn’t travelling all the time.  Besides, that means she won’t be glowering at me for a few minutes.”

Cullen sighed deeply, accepting he would be there for a while.  He was wide awake, actually kind of giddy to have Evie so calm around him.  “You, know your speech’s more relaxed now, not as prim and proper…well except for your cussing on Wednesday.”

“That’s the alcohol.”  She explained, slipping teabags into each handmade clay mug.  They were pretty tall, meaning it will take a while to drink.  Was she purposely keeping him around?  “If my manners teacher was around, I would have been slapped with a ruler for each contraction.  I can only act like there’s a silver spoon up my ass for so long.”

“You Trevelyans flip personalities around like you all suffer from ADHD.”

The musician grinned and shook her head.  She pulled a hair tie off her wrist entangled with her leather and chain bracelets.  She tossed her auburn hair up in that sloppy bun Cullen loved.  Missed waves and curls flowed down her neck and round her ears.  Her bangs were too short to keep out of her face.  They forced her to keep sweeping them behind her pierced ears.  One earring was a white and brown feather with diamond studs in the upper cartilage.  The other a silver stud with ringed earrings containing multi-colored amber beads at the top.  Nothing matched, unique and unconventional.  Purely her.

“ADHD and Asperger’s is only Esme.”  Evie replied, noting the kettle started to whistle.

Cullen blinked a few times.  “Esme’s on the spectrum?” 

Evie nodded.  “He’s come very far since he was a kid.  He credits me for the accomplishment, but he was the one who overcame obstacles.  Rian is so much older and rarely was around back then.  Patricia preferred to go shopping and hang out with her friends.  So, it was just Esme and I around the estate.  We would make maps and search for ‘treasures.’  He never spoke, even to me, but his eyes told me what he was thinking.  He clapped and giggled when I danced and played my violin.  He always attended my lessons, rarely saying a word.  It was my dad who introduced him to computers and programming.  His mind understand coding more than human speech.  Between that and my talents, he opened up and discovered the world.”

“Is that how you began dancing and playing the violin?”

“It’s my turn to ask a question, thank you.”

Cullen blinked a few times.  “Excuse me?”

Evie finished pouring the steaming water into the second mug.  Her shimmering eyes flicked over her shoulder.  “Twenty questions.”

The officer shook his head, confused.  “I didn’t realized we were playing.”

“You want to?”

The ex-templar hated admitted details about himself.  He already felt so raw and open around her, attempting to keep himself from tripping over his tongue and not sounding like a perverted idiot.  It was how she tilted her head and her annoying bangs cupped her smooth cheeks.  Or was it the Free Marcher lilt that slurred the ends of words ending in ‘g’ when she spoke?  The hints of citrus and cloves that the autumn breeze brushed his direction?  Maybe it was her overall inviting aura that tugged at his control to stay rooted in place so he would not walk over and hold her close. Yes, maybe he will play this game, utilizing any way to know learn more about her; unpeel the layers of different personas that kept her true self hidden.

“Sure.”  Cullen agreed, meeting her half way between the bar and the open hardwood area.  She handled him his seeping tea mug.  She wandered over to the far wall by an open window and sat down on the floor, her back supported by the brick wall.  The officer almost referenced the couch and sitting area until his mind remembered that his war hound occupied the seats.  Instead, he chose a thicker wood support beam near her and sat on the floor too.

Evie thought for a few minutes, studying the warehouse’s rafters for a question.  “Ten questions each, deal?”

Cullen nodded.  He sat his mug down on the hardwood floor and rolled up his Henley long sleeve shirt to feel more comfortable.  Her bright green eyes flickered and watched closely.  She bit her lower lip.

“You were a templar…any tattoos?  I know you knights like to signify where you graduated basic and took your first lyrium.”

Already, the woman ventured into terrible territory.  Her question was normal, familiar with the Order through her family.  However, Cullen’s first base was anything but a pleasant memory.

Evie noticed his trepidation, shrinking down and hunching over.  “Sorry.  Too much?”

Cullen attempted to still his facial expression and dull whiskey eyes.  “No.  Fair question.  Yes, on my right back shoulder blade like Rian.  However, my base was not so high and dignifying as the White Spire, but at a Circle academy in Ferelden.”

That made Evie winced.  “You were in the system and trained inside the academies.  I remember seeing the recruits as an apprentice.”

That had always shocked Cullen:  a noble woman forced to attend a Circle school was almost unheard of.  “You were an apprentice mage?”  He already knew the answer from her dossier, but it did not explain why she was sent to an institution.  Her family was extremely powerful and could have influenced the Chantry to overlook her unique mutation.  If anything, most nobles had private tutors train mages like her, allowing them to freely move about without confinement behind Circle walls.

The dancer glanced away.  “That’s your second question.  Keep count, okay?”

“I’m aware.  It is just usually aristocrats pay their way of out to not sending their children to Circles.”  Cullen remarked.  Maker’s breath, he wasted a question for an answer he already knew.

“Father offered, but the family knights threatened to make my life a living hell if I didn’t go.  Ostwick’s academy was more relaxed than most, so I came home often anyway.  My family’s high status and excusive lyrium monopoly allowed me to propose lyrium research in the first place.  Of course, I had to go through that damn archaic practice, Harrowing, to demonstrate I would not go crazy and kill everyone present.  Jeeze.”

“I’m sorry.”  Cullen softly whispered. 

Cullen’s anger and wrath to murder Evie’s cousins returned with a vengeance.  He remembered reading what happened to this amazing woman during her Harrowing.  It was no surprise now why the Inquisitor actively worked to change the Circle system, specifically Harrowings.  Rian, familiar with the oppressive academies as a templar, and Cassandra, a seeker—a global Chantry police officer who oversee both mages and templars—worked with the Divine to devise new laws and practices to end the Mage-Templar War. 

No mage believed Rian would cut back abuse, but they quickly shut up once he convinced the Chantry to ban tranquility and severely change Harrowing practices.  The exam was now realistic and only meant for apprentices wishing to be highly exposed to lyrium through researching or experimentation.  Circles still existed, but allowed for more open education and welcomed non-genetically mutated children, no longer blocked to the general populace until college.  The change was meant to encourage changing general opinion and drop the idea mage children caused the Maker to turn away from His people.

Evie shrugged and sipped her lavender tea.  “Rian called me a great deal when he collaborated with Cassandra on reinventing the Circles.  He knew I would understand what and why he was doing everything.  Free speech and some basic rights are still denied, but I now can think about marriage and a family without worrying about getting the brand.”

“I’ve heard aristocrat mages are still allowed to marry under the old system.”

Evie shook her head.  She put down her mug and pulled off her boots, flinging them across the room.  “I never wanted to be set apart from my fellow mages, so I denied myself those same rights.  I didn’t stop my Great-Aunt Lucille from trying to arrange something.”  She snarled at the loft, not him.

Cullen continued his pushing to understand her selflessness.  “Yet, you didn’t joined the rebellion.”

“That did not mean I was complacent.  If anything, I was more vocal, using my new fame to demonstrate we are just like everyone else.  I disagreed with Fiona and her scholars greatly because I knew what templars suffered with alone under Chantry laws.  That didn’t sit well with the professors.  They called me a fence-sitter because I never chose a side.  They forgot the first basic rule of having a perspective argument:  know the opposing side’s facts and countering them effectively.  Apparently, that’s considered siding with the enemy.”

“Things are getting better.  It will take a few generations to wash away prejudice and myths.”  Cullen remarked, wanting to end the conversation.  Neither people wanted to get any more theological and political about current events, especially with a subject still very fresh any everyone’s mind after the Mage-Templar War.

“Ha.  Tell that to the elves and dwarves…”  Evie proclaimed, rolling her glistening bright green orbs.  “What is your tattoo?”

“That’s your number two.”  Cullen reminded the woman, waving two fingers.  “Sword of Mercy in a mabari’s mouth.  Although, it looks nothing like that after a horrible injury torn open my shoulder.”

Evie burst out laughing.  “So Fereldan of you.”

“Number Three:  do you have a tattoo?”

Her bright green eyes flicked at him.  “Wouldn’t you like to know…” She sassed.  “Yes, but you’ll have to find it…”

“It’s a tramp stamp.”  Cullen deadpanned, causing her to chuckle more.

“Nope.”  She admitted.  “I just designed it in such a way that it is there, but not _there_ at the same time.”

“Sounds like you’re ashamed of it.”  Cullen purposely phrased his sentences as statement, not questions to not lose his limited number of inquiries.

“No, I love it.  I thought you would have figured out I am not conventional.”

“I have, thus why I’m still sitting here.”

The words fell out of Cullen’s mouth before he registered what he said.  His mouth gapped and his mouth dried up like the Western Approach.  The officer expected her to turn sour and defensive.  Instead, a meek warming smile graced her moon-lit face.

“Yes…yes, you are.”

Maker’s breath, he was in trouble.

“My number three:  where did you grow up?”

Cullen somewhat hoped Evie might have opened up a little, but she blocked his attempt to peel back her protective layers and suss out her feelings towards him.  He should not be curious.  If anything, the commander should snuff them out for professionalism sake.  Yet, every time she watched him and tilted her head, the ex-templar felt himself melt.

Cullen nodded, sipped his tea, but made sure not to empty the mug too quickly.  “A small hamlet about two hours from Haven called Honnleath.  My family owned a farm outside of town.”

Evie’s smile grew as she hugged her legs close to her chest.  She rocked on her behind a little.  “A farm boy, huh?  I never expected that.  Although, I did just assumed you were sent to the Order against your will.”

Cullen got that assumption a great deal.  The Templar Order was used by some parents as an organization to send their troublesome children who would never amount to anything.  The idea a farm boy _wanting_ to be a knight was almost unheard of.  Typically, the only people who willingly joined now were third or fourth children of an elite family would never inherit any wealth.  Maker, the commander hated working with such pompous kids.  However, the order pushed that big-headedness out and replaced it with an obedient and lyrium-addicted soldier who never questioned the Chantry.   

“I know Ferelden pretty well, but never heard of Honnleath.”  Evie admitted.  Her brow wrinkled as she mentally thought through her Fereldan geography.

“It no longer exists.  Blight wiped it off the map twelve years ago.”

Evie’s eyes dulled as her lips pursed tightly.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  Cullen waved his hand.  “I lost my grandmother to the virus, but my family escaped relatively fine.  My mom caught the virus, but recovered despite the odds.  We got her treatment in time, but it left her disfigured and she lost sight in one eye.  Her hearing is still strong, so she just listens to television and music.  They lost all the livestock, and of course, the land was tainted.”

“How are they now?  Will the Denerim concert help them recover?”

Cullen smirked.  Of course, Evie would want to help them somehow.  “They’re fine.  They resettled in South Ridge.  My father retired from farming to take care of my mom.  They live in a separate farmhouse on my sister’s land.  He helps on her husband and she on their farm.  My baby sister is finishing her Masters in Biology in Denerim Capital University.  She wants to come work for IC and hopefully develop a vaccine to avoid Blight outbreaks.  My brother served in the Fereldan reserves and does some contracting and construction work now.”

“Anymore Rutherford kids?”

“It’s not your turn, Missy.”  Cullen joked, waging a disciplinary finger her direction.  She pouted, forced to eat her own words.  “Is Esme why you started dancing and playing?”  He returned back to his earlier question she said was out of turn.

Evie shook her head, her bun bouncing and swaying on top of her head.  “No, just an added bonus.  You must know by now Trevelyans constantly fight off assassins and other riffraff.  Father started our self-defense training early, like when we were _four_ early.  I picked up tumbling and jumps quickly, always humming to myself.  I loved watching the Free Marcher’s Grand Tourney and the competing gymnastic teams.  I never miss it every four years and loved how Divine Justinia expanding it into a global event to bring the southern countries together.  I broke so many vases doing cartwheeling down hallways. 

Cullen watched contently as a great mirth shined from the woman’s soul.  She gazed up at the old industrial ceiling.  “It was around that time my sister started piano lessons.  She stunk at it, _like animal whining stunk_.  The poor horses who had to hear that garbage.  Still, I listened closely and fell in love with classical music.  Back then I couldn’t sing well, so I searched out other instruments.  I fell in love with violas because of their strong alto tones, but I was too tiny to hold the large shoulder instrument, thus my parents selected the violin.  That’s why I play a five-string violin.  I never let go of that C-string low pitch and how it vibrates through the craved wood, thick and strong.  My critics hate the sound, which only makes me use it more.  Between tumbling and playing, dancing arose.  Father got me personal tutors, making sure my lessons continued in the Circle.”

Her swaying movements stilled, and the happiness disappeared like a fire had been snuffed out.  “My singing didn’t get going until after I became famous.  Vivienne claimed there wasn’t a singing and dancing violinist yet, and I could fill a niche left open in the music industry.  I used to only perform for my family.  It was something _personal_.  My general education was controlled by the Chantry.  I learned to be a model noble daughter in the upper class like a good lil’ Trevelyan.  Behind closed doors, music and dance were _mine._   I could express myself safely and without fear.  Now, it is a chain like everything else, except for the rare moments I practice and lose myself in the music.”

Cullen’s thoughts drifted back to the first time he witnessed Evie dance.  “I’m honored I saw you practice then, Eve.  Although, I interrupted you during one of those lost freeing moments.”

The woman nodded and grinned, seeming not to mind the interruption now.  A wicked flicker crossed her unique spheres.  “You probably figured out that I played _you_ then.”

The officer figured as much.  He notified Rian later that day and stated he did point his M1911 at Evie’s head when she threw a knife at his heart.  The older brother was not surprised.  Apparently, Trevelyan self-defense training included throwing knives at one another to see reaction times.  Learning this, Cullen figured out Evie played him like a fiddle as soon as he arrived. 

The dancer knew he was there.  She tested his patience and poise.  The security officer failed and entered her personal space without permission.  She flung the knife to challenge his abilities, successfully dodging, but stupidly drew his weapon and not demonstrating proper trigger control.  He did not shoot, but he should have called out or attempted to defuse the situation before resorting to using his weapon.  In Cullen’s defensive, after Kirkwall, it as just natural to fight first and ask questions later.  He would run out of fingers and toes counting when reflexes barely saved his life during the riots.

“Yes…”  Cullen whispered, pulling up his knee and resting his arm on it.  It blocked her sight to his glossed-over stare.  His mind reverted back to the riots and his horrible actions done in the Chantry’s name.

Cullen heard her jeans scoot forward across the hardwood, but never expected Evie crawl to his side.  Her long fingers curled around his wrist and softly removed it from his knee.  Cullen’s surprised amber eyes met her glimmering bright green orbs shining up at him as she leaned over to reach his side.  She brought her legs around until she sat crossed legged.  She rested her temple on his knee, keeping her gaze on him, never looking away like she would miss something if she did.  Fight and flight tugged at his heart and mind, but he could not move.  Cullen never wanted to leave her side.  Her eyes entranced him just like her music and dance that day over a week ago.

“I shouldn’t have.”  She whispered softly.  Her voice was warm and caring, genuinely sympathetic.  “You do not have to answer this question.  Was it Kirkwall?”

The officer knew what she meant.  Was that city-state why he left the Order?  Did that chaos convinced him to stop taking lyrium?  Were his eyes staring off because of what he witnessed?  “It definitely didn’t help.  It was the final straw.  Rian agreed, after assisting the city for nearly a year.  Both of us were completely done with the bullshit, but the mental damage began far before that damn shithole.”

Evie nodded, his jeans rubbing her right temple.  She never left her leaning spot, and Cullen did not move away.  He felt her warmth through the thick fabric.  The man struggled with himself to not pull her closer and feel her heat against his chest again or breathe her unique scent.  Instead, he kept his focus on those glowing green orbs studying his face closely.  Evie’s hypnotizing spheres flicked from his eyes to what must have been his lip.

The commander caressed her cheek without prompting; his callused fingers danced across her cheekbones and jaw.  Evie sighed and smiled, shifting so she could lean into his touch.  “How did your eyes turn so bright green?  No one else in your family has such vivid eyes.”  Once again, the words fell out of his mouth so quickly.  He was not thinking straight, but also did not care.

The musician simpered, shifting until her chin rest on top of Cullen’s knee.  His hand fell to her shoulder and neck.  Now, her arm curled around his lower leg, and his right knee supported more of her body weight.  Her shoulder and part of her chest were pressed against his thigh.  Her core warmed him, both physically and emotionally.  The officer will admit now he was extremely physically attracted to her, but found her surface beauty came from an internal flame that hypnotized him instantly.  That is what her dancing practice revealed when they met.  Her violin music captured him each time he replayed her albums.  This was no longer a quick attraction, but a deeper feeling he had not experienced in a very long time.  It scared him shitless.

“That’s a loaded question, Serah.”  She chuckled a little, sighing deeply.  He felt each breath through her throat while pressed on his knee.

“You can pass.”  Maker, he prayed she won’t.

“No, I’ll answer, but it’s confusing.”  Evie declared, swallowing deeply before resting her cheek on his knee.  She got closer each moment.  Her bangs swept his jeans each time she moved into his space.  “I got red lyrium poisoning.”

Cullen froze, blinking a few times.  He knew his mouth gapped like a fish.  “What?!”

The woman giggled, tightening her arm around his ankle and calf.  “Yup.  Good ole Kirkwall.  Three weeks in Starkhaven ICU.  You know red lyrium is corrupted by the Blight virus.  Thank the Maker I wasn’t truly infected.  That on top of the poison would have surly killed me.  The doctors said I survived because I did have the lyrium mutation and could process it…somewhat.  That did not mean I was well though.  It was a lyrium overdose higher than most drug addicts can survive.  The fevers nearly fried my brain.  The paranoia and the hallucinations were the worst.  I still have lingering nightmares and don’t trust my sight all the time.”

“Wait, this happened in Kirkwall?!  And before you say anything, I am aware that takes up one of my questions, and it is out of order.  You can ask two after this.”  Cullen admitted, still flabbergasted she survived the poisoning.  He knew she was there during the bomb when she ran away from home, but her file said nothing about red lyrium poisoning.

“That’s fair.  Yes, I was only there for a few days officially.  I was the most educated lyrium researcher in the Free Marches, actually already in the city for one reason or another.”  She winced and scrunched her nose in disgust.  “My Circle had me assist cleaning up the mess.  I was a Harrowed mage, and my dissertation focused on lyrium.  I lived a year close to raw lyrium in Orzammar for my Master’s thesis.  It made sense.  The Chantry only agreed because I was a Trevelyan, although my surname was hidden from public record at the time.  Well, you know the bombing destabilized the whole city; all those old Tevinter buildings’ foundations cracked.  A Hightown building shifted and slow slid down the steep incline.  You know how Kirkwall was stupidly built on a fucking mountain.  In the chaos, a red lyrium shard spiked my left arm.  The local medic thought she cleaned it properly, got all the substance out.  I cannot blame her actually.  Lyrium removal is a very specific process better done with an fMRI machine and a full staff.  For three days, I was ‘fine.’  That’s when I performed for the relief workers and remaining civilian populace.  One morning, Esme found me in bed puking and having fever seizures.  I got evacuated out of there immediately.”

Cullen raked his mind, trying to remember anything about this.  He was in Kirkwall and oversaw the Gallows at the time.  None of this rang a bell, and it pissed him off.

“To answer your original question about my eyes:  well, during my fevers, I developed encephalitis, inflammation of the brain.  It normally occurs when fighting an infection, in this case, the Blight virus even though I never officially _caught_ the disease.  The red lyrium still exposed me and caused an immune response.  The inflammation led to me developing Horner’s Syndrome, where one pupil is bigger than the other.  It goes away after the underlying issue is addressed, which in my case was the swelling brain.  As a result, my brown eyes changed to green.  It’s called heterochromia iridum, where a person’s iris have different colorations.  I had a gene that manipulates the melanin—or pigment—in hair and eyes.  My hair fell out and grew back more red.  The red lyrium, inflammation, and the melanin gene combined and transformed my eyes to this bright green color.  If you look real closely, one is darker than the other.  It caused other issues…”[1]  The musician hung her head, rubbing her shoulders and torso.

“Maker’s breath…You must have looked so differently before, n-not that I-I’m saying that as a _bad_ thing, b-but you know-“

Evie waved her hand.  “I know what you meant.  I had a short haircut back then and more tan.  I resembled Esme greatly.  I survived, that’s what mattered…”

“I was stationed in Kirkwall for nearly nine years.  I was there during the explosion until I joined Inquisition…”  Cullen whispered, searching his memory.  His hand automatically brushed her hanging bangs behind her ear, briefly feeling her sooth skin against his callused fingers again.  “I was knight-commander.  I oversaw everything in the Gallows.  I would have known about the cleanup, and especially about a mage lyrium geologist.”

Evie shrugged.  “I also kept a low profile.  Well, until Varric and Hawke posted that damn video.  That’s how Esme found me after I fell ill, I think.  There was no knight-commander when I was there.  Knight-Commander Meredith Stennard the Tyrant died in the bombing.  Nothing against your former commander, but I don’t think anyone cried for her.”

Cullen shook his head.  “Hawke and I were the ones who chased her into the Chantry.  She penned us down, shooting an altered sniper rifle at anything that moved.  She held all the clerics and visiting people hostage while she was high on red lyrium.  Anders already had rigged the bomb without us knowing about it.  When we saw him run in with the detonator strapped to his chest, yelling for revolution, there was nothing we could do…”

Evie hugged his leg again.  “I’m so sorry.  I know you did all you could have to stop that madness.”

Cullen shook his head.  “No…I-I didn’t.”

The dancer must have seen that dark stare forming on his face.  She returned to the game, her satin finger touching his scarred lip.  “How did this happen?”

Cullen shrugged, feeling himself growing tired, but unable to pull away and leave her warmth.  “I don’t know.  Like not remembering hearing a beautiful geologist getting red lyrium poisoning, there are blocks of time missing from Kirkwall after the bombing.  Meredith nearly headshot me when I thought I ducked low enough behind a boulder.  A little mabari puppy that you now know as Surana tackled me out of the way in time, thus how we became partners.  I had three or four concussions over those months, some within days of one another.”

“Good way of getting brain damage.  One too many knocks on the head.”  She tapped his temple a few times, slightly smiling up at him.  Her finger lingered against his face, cupping his stubbly cheek like it was the most precise thing in the world.  “Well that and long-term lyrium use.  Double whammy for you.”

“Tell me about it…”  Cullen huffed, pinching his nose while his detoxing mind ached.  His hand found his mug and took a few gulps of tea to push back the growing headache.

“I see how it was though.  You forgot me.”  Evie sassed, poking his hip when her hand shifted away from his jaw.  “I guess I’m easy to forget-“

“-No.”  Cullen’s voice thundered through the loft.  He grasped her linger hand, cupping it close to his palm.  The action surprised her, but she did not retract it.  “Absolutely not.”

The officer did not mean to be so stern and strict, but he will never forget this woman.  He only knew her personally for a week and already he opened up to her more than most people in fifteen years.  He might have stuttered and blushed around her constantly, but he did not want to run away from Evie.  If anything, he wanted to hold her and never let her go.  How did she reach his soul so easily?

Evie’s bright green eyes swirled as she stared at him.  She was surprised by his declaration and direct physical contact.  Before Cullen could play down the call, she pressed her other free hand’s index finger to his scarred lip and leaned forward.  She further encroached his space, unbending her legs and nudged herself closer to his chest and face.   Any closer, Evie would be sitting in his lap.  Maker, Cullen wanted her to so badly.  Her orange and clove scent wafted off her white V-neck shirt and falling curls.  Just inches from his face, she spoke barely a whisper.

“My final question.  Maybe we can save the other ten for another time.  It’s been a long night for both of us, admitting things that are extremely difficult, but I think it was healthy.  Therapeutic.”  Her voice was soft whisper.  That tantalizing Free Marcher lilt sounded like satin against his rattled soul.  “You can tell me if I am pushing too far with this…if I am extremely off base, but I got to know…”

Cullen’s amber eyes kept locked on her blushing face, memorizing her features to relive in his dreams.  This close he could see the hint of several freckles across her nose and cheekbones.  Her eyelashes were long, giving her uniquely colored eyes a heavenly atmosphere.  Most of all, she kept wetting her plump pink lips, making little licking noises with her anxious tongue.  “Shoot.”

“Will you kiss me?”

_Maker, yes!_

But he can’t.

“No.”

Dread overcame her high cheekbones.  Those freckles whisked away, disappearing from Cullen’s view.  Color drained for her face.  She jumped away, climbed back to her feet, and marched away.  With massive pressure, she massaged her temples and pulled down her messy bun.  She used the unruly waves to mask her shocked and embarrassed face. 

Cullen climbed up and dashed after her.  Surana noticed the sudden shift, waking up and running towards the two humans.  Evie kept evading Cullen’s outreached hand.

“Eve, wait-“

“I just made an absolute fool of myself-“

“-No, you didn’t.”  The officer predicted her dodge and grasped her left arm, pulling her against him.  Their bodies slammed together like to hammers, pressing hard against one another like an undeclared pushing war.  His other hand pulled up her chin and forced the embarrassed woman to look him the eye.  “Look at me.”

“No!”  She whined, trying everything to not meet his gaze.

“I wasn’t done replying, Eve!”

That got the musician to lock her glossy eyes on his amber spheres.  She was on the verge of crying.  Cullen, you swine!  Fix this.  “What I should have said was, ‘not tonight.’”

Evie’s bright green marbles of swirling color widened farther.  She relaxed in his grasp, allowing him to pull her closer against his chest.  He was over six inches taller, causing her to stand on her toes to reach his face so closely.  He felt her quickening breath on his lips and stubble.  Maker, he wished he could kiss her now.

“…what do you mean?”  That Free Marcher lilt sounded like pain, hope, and shyness all at the same time.

“I thought we were only doing ten questions…”  He smirked, hoping she could take the joke.

“You fiend.  Answer the damn question.”

“I vowed a long time ago to never allow alcohol to control my actions.”  Cullen began, running his right hand up her spine.  He felt every vertebrae through her thin shirt.  A low hum flowed up her body and out her parted lips.  His thumb could easily lift the shirt seam and touch her sooth lower back, inching it up to the fastener that kept her satin bra in place.  One flick and his view down her shirt would become more enticing than it already was.  She already encouraged him to find her tattoo, wondering if her tight jeans or shirt covered it from his view.  His whole body hated him for not attempting any of it.  “Lyrium, alcohol…I used them as escapes from nightmares and reality.  I made horrific choices under the influence of both.  Blocks of memory gone, worse than all the concussions….waking up in women’s beds that I didn’t even know their names.  When I left the Order, I vowed to never take lyrium again, but will allow alcohol under strict social purposes.  However, I will not take advantage of someone or myself while under its influences…even to steal a kiss from a fierce, strong beautiful woman who asked me.  _That’s_ what I meant.”

A signal tear rolled down Evie’s cheek.  Cullen quickly brushed it away.  “I’m the alcoholic fiend then.”

“No, you’re not.  Maybe a minx, temping me to break my personal rule every second I hold you, but definitely not a fiend.”

Evie bit her lower lip, pressing her weight against him more.  Unintentionally, her thigh glanced his groin, nearly sending him over the edge.  Cullen kept flexing his hand on her spine that just wanted to grab her hip, lift her up, and have his way with her there and now.  “I can accept minx…and I support your rule.  You’re an absolute handsome gentleman.”

Cullen blushed, kissing her forehead.  Her sun-kissed skin was magical against his dry chapped lips.  Maker, he wanted to kiss her so much.  “If you knew more about me, you would quickly retract that.”

“I doubt it.”

“I should go…before I reconsider all my life choices.”

“I might never offer alcohol to you ever again so that doesn’t become a problem again.  _I_ might stop drinking.”  Evie considered, glancing at her growing liquor collection.  “Completely worth it, if that means I get to kiss you someday.”

Cullen chuckled and shook his head.  He step back, immediately feeling the cold and dread of not being pressed against her.  “Goodnight, Eve.”  He kissed her forehead again, side stepped, and walked towards the lift.

Evie twirled around, watching Cullen leave the loft.  Her mouth gapped, while her face screamed crimson red.  Surana trotted into the lift and sat down by her human.  Cullen pushed down the wooden grate.  A single whisper cooed out of her lips.  “Goodnight…Cullen.”

The officer nodded, pushed the red button to activate the machine, and watched regrettably as Evie disappeared from view.  As the second floor shrank from sight, Cullen stepped back and hit his head against the wood and sheet metal lift wall several times.  Surana whined up at him, leaning against his right leg.  Evie’s warmth still permeated his Henley shirt and jeans.  Each moment away from her, the world became so cold and unbearable.

It took all of Cullen’s willpower to decline kissing her plump pink lips, the ability to taste her, and tangle his tongue with hers.  However, if he had allowed himself, he would break all his progress from Kirkwall.  It had been six years and had come so far.  To be the type of man Evie deserved, he must keep his values.  To be worthy of her affections, Cullen must stand firm by his progress.

But Maker, did Cullen _hate_ himself for missing such an opportunity!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I did a great deal of internet searching to find an explanation to the eye color change.  Anyone who has read “Fire In Your Eyes” knows the Breach dyed Evie’s eyes.  I already used the fake contacts excuse in “Marry Your Best Friend.”  This was as realistic-ish as I could get for a non-magic world.  It is actually pretty interesting, specifically heterochromia iridum.  I hope it is a satisfactory explanation that will play into the plot later.


	10. Professionalism (Evie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Dusk Till Dawn" Performed by Daniel Jang (Originally Zayn featuring Sia)
> 
> In a week or so, I will release a Spotify playlist of pieces and songs that Evie "records", although done by real musicians and artist for their own stuff. I just want to give you all a taste of Evie's tone and pieces. Keep an eye on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard) and Spotify profiles for updates! If you have any artists you know how are modern violinists (like Lindsey Sterling and 2Cellos) let me know in the comments or send a message on tumblr. I am enjoying listening to their compositions while writing.

Evie’s fingers danced across the five strings, rarely holding a single note.  The produced music fueled her as she held the electric violin’s neck with her left hand and the resin horsehair bow that glided over the strings in her right hand.  The established tempo set the stage, ringing in her ear through the Bose headphones and enticed her tapping socked foot.  Her emotions performed the new piece; the melody pulled from her ignited heart and transmitted by her brain to her quick fingers and arms.  Verses popped into her mind, but she refused to stop to jot them down.  The vocal microphone was off and will not catch the words.  Choruses were easier to compose, while the violin melody and accompanying instruments usually gave the most difficulty.

Well, that was at least the issue during the musician’s current album.

Inspiration ran dry following Evie’s tour across southern Thedas.  After the first tour as new artist, she returned to the studio with many melodies, reflecting the new feelings and emotions of spreading her music far and wide.  It wrote itself within a few weeks.  Her mind reminisced back to the all the different places she visited following Kirkwall.  Many people who went to those concerts wished to see the violinist they had watched on Nugtube and listen to her original solos and compositions.  All their strong and uplifting comments provided the fuel to write her second official album.    

Evie believed composing would be easy and quick like before.  Her traveling would provide new experiences and journeys for the next composures.  Quite the opposite occurred following the second tour for the next album.  That was when the stalkers appeared.  The critics kept nitpicking each performance.  Her voice sounded rough and unrefined.  She fell more on stage.  Overbearing fans found where she was staying in each city and broke into her hotel room.  Suddenly, what used to be a personal gift that she allowed others to witness became a burden.  The dancer sunk into a deep depression.

Vivienne and Varric pressured her to return to the studio and write to combat the melancholy.  The Rusty Bitch reminded her she was safe at the Trevelyan estate.  Evie believed that, retreating from the limelight a little to assist her father with the mining corporations.  After all, Evie thought a rest from writing music and performing would help break the blockage and resolve the stalking issues.  Like vultures, the extended Trevelyan family and Patricia attacked her maimed, disorientated body.  They chased her from her childhood home.  She no longer belonged at a Circle university, declining a tenure in Ostwick following Kirkwall to pursue her music and dancing career.  The looming, dark studios gave her deep anxiety like a stalker or fan will emerge out of the shadows and attack.  Going outside brought the unknowing terror that a stranger may criticize what she ate or how she dressed.

That was why Evie ran off to Ferelden.  Oh, she was skilled at running away and hiding her identity now.  She wore the plainest clothes, took her jeep, and ran away.  That time she had her own money so she was not sleeping along a Darktown street.  She was no longer bound to Circles following the war, so she never feared being captured by knights.  The musician left her favorite instrument behind and bought yet another new cellphone and number so no one could track her.  Evie used aliases not even known to her security detail.  It was easy proving to Ferelden red lyrium cleanup crews that she was a geologist and sent to assist their work.  The Trevelyans could not find her since the cleanup crews travelled the country at a quick pace.    

Evie never imagined she would end up in Redcliffe, the second largest city in Ferelden, the central location of the once mage rebellion.  Damn Fiona remained there, receiving special permission from Governor Eamon Guerrin to rebuild the Circles under the new reformed system.  In true Evie fashion, she turned to alcohol to hide her disgust and annoyance.  Then she saw Fiona discussing a potential scholarly collaboration with Magister Gereon Alexis of the Tevinter Imperium.  Of all things the grand enchanter could do when mages were on track to regain their basic rights.  Evie crashed the pub meeting, tossing her beer in Fiona’s face and ranting about coddling with the northern enemy.  Suddenly, Evie could not deny her identity as cellphones snapped photos and recorded video.  The fiasco combined together all her troubles and displayed them online.  In hindsight, she liked a few memes people posted online, but most people were just nasty and cruel.

There was nowhere to escape.

Since arriving a week ago, Haven truly became Evie’s shelter, primarily because of specific man that she had believed would rob her remaining freedom.

The music continued to flow from her fingers and strumming bow.  Her mind fixated on those amber eyes and warm, husky voice.  The feel of his scar against her fingertip, the way his thoughts fell from his lips and showing his true desires, and most of all his gentlemanly conduct.

Evie was falling hard.

Cullen Rutherford was the example of what every man should be.  He never took advantaged of Evie despite her willingness last night.  He was mysterious, but allowed some discussion about himself and his personal life.  The officer was shy, but charming in his unique bashful nature.  Honor and duty ruled him like a true medieval knight, just missing the glimmering armor and maybe a bear mantle coat dyed in Fereldan colors. 

The commander’s experiences made Evie wonder.  She pulled herself physically closer every time that glossy gaze shadowed Cullen’s beautiful eyes.  She wanted to heal him, hold him close, and never let go.  She damned herself for bringing up such dark moments of his life and cursed those experiences for ever happening.  He understood her caged world, and she understood his lyrium withdrawal, surprising him on how to avoid symptoms.  They could comfort one another, heal each other until the pain and agony disappeared.  Neither person slept soundly at night.   Yet, Evie envisioned falling asleep beside him, curled up against his chest, and hear his heartbeat slow against her ear as the Fade took him.  Her fascination no longer leaned to physical attraction.  This was something completely different.

That is why Evie asked if they could kiss.  A kiss told so much about a person.  Were they just saying sweet nothings to get you in bed?  Did they feel the same?  Experience the same ache in their chest?  Was this a friendship or something more and unique?  Evie had to know and felt foolish when he first rejected her.  She never asked something like that in her whole life, but she could not let him leave until she knew his feelings.  The women knew she could not blame it on tequila.  She was sober and attuned to her surroundings, to him. 

That anguish and swaying emotions governed Evie’s music that Sunday morning.  Cullen pulled her in so many directions in such a short timeframe.  He explained his reasoning, a personal code of conduct that keeps him grounded and not swayed to take lyrium again.  The musician could see he struggled with that commitment constantly, and she nearly broke him last night.  Cullen did not give her a direct answer, but admitted he truly felt something growing between them.

Cullen swept the dancer off her feet.

The musical piece slowed and ended on a whole note.  The bow slid off her instrument and fell from her hand.  She released the violin from her jaw and shoulder, resting it on the table in front of her.  She switched the recording off, allowing her laptop to compose and process the melody for her to review later.

A fan asked Evie once if she composed love songs on purpose and if they were inspired by her real life.  She did not know how to respond.  Evie knew little about love and romance.  She never really had a true long-term relationship, more focused on her careers than date anyone of interest.  She fell in love with a complete stranger once a long time ago, a whirlwind that started and ended abruptly and horribly.  The musician only slept with a few people, primarily as friends with benefits.  Those people shared similar struggles when sometimes a person just needed a bed mate.  It lessened the depression and stress.  Evie avoided such rendezvous after Kirkwall.  The red lyrium broke her and messed up her mind.  The horrific hallucinations continued even after six years, mixing reality and nightmares together until her heart could not see the difference. 

In the end, love, sex, and dating never combined into a true romantic relationship.  She told the fan her piece reflected her inner heart, pulling from multiple emotions.  If listeners fell in love or related to the melody romantically, it was their interpretation.  She wished to inspire everyone within, not direct what they _should_ feel from the song.

Playing back the violin recording then alerted her that this what that fan meant.  She felt the anguish and uncertainty about love and the future through the tune, but it finish with hope and uplifting that something could occur.  Evie prayed peace and absolute happiness will be the next expression, reflective of the warm and happiness knowing Cullen might care for her the same way.  It had only been a week and this ex-templar dropped her to her knees and enticed her to open her guarded heart and hope.  Maker, she hoped she was not wrong about their chances.

_Buzz!_

Evie’s bright green eyes flicked to her cellphone sitting by her violin.  She noted the new text message alert flashing on the screen.  Her heart jumped up into her throat.  Very few people would contact her at 10:00 Sunday morning.  Her parents were on the way to Chantry service in Ostwick.  She stopped attending after Kirkwall and nearly dying.  Death should have enticed her to return to the Maker’s side, but the poisoning just estranged her from her faith.  How could the Maker allow so much death and destruction in the world and not respond?  She composed a piece for her first album with those emotions.  The Chantry censored it because it broke Chantry values.  Even more reason to avoid the institution.  She liked Divine Justinia, but the spiritual leader could not control her conservative clerics resistant to change and progress.

The dancer shook her thoughts aside and picked up the device.  Typing in her passcode, more information about the text appeared.  It was from Cullen, his profile blank because she feared adding a photo or search for more information about him.  Evie bit her lower lip and nearly squeaked.  She tapped the text message application and opened his text.

[Good morning, Eve.  Are you awake?  I wanted to make sure you are okay after last night.]

Short and to the point, how commanding.

Her thumbs quickly typed a reply.

{Yes.  I’ve been up since 06:00.  Just long enough to detox and feel the morning hangover.  Ugh.}

A message popped up after a few seconds.

[Eight shots will do that.  I’m sorry you couldn’t rest more.]

“Because you left…” Evie muttered, slightly depressed remembering his face disappearing down the lift.

{I told you:  I don’t sleep, and I always develop a hangover.}

It took him about a minute to respond, but the application indicated he was typing.

[I remember what you said.  I’m in the area.  Do you mind if I stop by?  If you’re busy, that’s fine, but I just wanted to check up on you since you were worse for wear at the pub.]

Evie did squeal at that, hopping back and forth between her feet.  She skipped out of the sound booth.  A wicked grin grew on her face.

{Sure.  If you get here in a few minutes, you can catch me taking a shower.  ;)  I did promise no nude pics, but you have that special passcode.  Just wanted to give a heads up.}

Three minutes passed by.  Maybe Evie pressed her luck.  She started to pace in the garage, scanning the smartphone’s screen for him typing back.  She took the moment to look over herself.  She wore yoga pants, stripped toe socks, a white tank top with a built-in bra, and an Ostwick State University sweatshirt.  The sweatshirt’s neck had been torn open following a very drunk night in graduate school.  It hung off her shoulder enough to show her whole neck.  Her auburn hair was messy and fuzzy, barely touched since she woke that morning.  She wore no makeup, removing what she wore the night before, but she knew there was still some raccoon eyes from her mascara and eyeliner.  Maker, maybe she should take quick shower.

[Maker’s breath, woman…You know your brother reads my texts sometimes.  I will be there in a second, and if you don’t answer the intercom, I will walk away.  I promised not to abuse my access, didn’t I?]

Not enough time to change or shower after all.  Bloody great.

{I’ll hold off on the shower then, but enjoy that mental image.  XP!}

[Bloody minx.]

Evie took the few moments to turn off her recording equipment, dust off her electric violin and put it back in its case, and retrieve her laptop.  The intercom sounded a few minutes later, right as Evie headed toward the lift.  She decided to meet Cullen on the lower level, opening the side garage door to signify where she was there.  Her attention flicked to her jeep in the middle stall.  She flipped phone applications to where the front door locking system could be accessed.  On the screen was Cullen waiting, holding something in his hand.  Surana wagged her tail beside him.

Evie took a few deep breaths, pushing the butterflies aside before accepting the visitor.  She heard the locks shift in the distance.  The front door opened and immediately clicking mabari nails scratched the cement.  Surana appeared at the garage side door with a tennis ball in her mouth.  She attempted to bark with it in her jowls.  Her yellow eyes sent daggers at Evie.

“Already, Surana?”  Evie sighed, rolling her bright green eyes.  The musician now wondered if that hound _could_ read texts after all.

The war hound woofed deep in her chest as Cullen entered the foyer.  He appeared at the door, smirking first at the animal then Evie.  His amber eyes shimmered as Evie scanned him at her place by her jeep.  He looked like he was awake for a while, freshly showered and dressed in cargo pants and untucked white shirt.  A navy blue t-shirt peeked out around the collar.  Oh my Maker, he look fantastic, and she looked like last night’s trash.

“She started growling as soon as she saw the warehouse.”  He grinned and shook his head.  “I told her you’re harmless, which only lead to more barking and deeper groans.”

“I haven’t done anything!”  Evie huffed, waving her hands out in front of her.

Surana woofed again before dropping her tennis ball and chased after it under the rusty tuk tuk in the first stall.  The ball rolled around the garage, keeping her entertained for a while.  Cullen grinned.  His hands were behind his back.  “Got you something.”

“Oh really?”  Evie eyed him, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I would have had something for you, but _someone_ said they would leave if I stepped into the shower.”

The officer turned fives shades of crimson, breaking his gaze to cough and fidget.  “I’m going to delete that.  Knowing Esme, he has malware on my phone transmitting all texts.  Adelheid will put a bullet in my skull by noon.”

“Nah, she sleep in on Sundays.”  Evie admitted, waving not to worry.  “Ezzy has a listening device on it too anyway, so you’re already screwed.”

“Well, shit.”

That got Evie giggling.  She held her hand to her lips and shook her head.  A part of wondered if her brother would do something like that. 

“I figured you needed this after last night.  Also bought some beans for the week ahead.”  Cullen declared, showing a tall drive thru coffee and a brown paper bag big enough to house a bag of whole bean coffee.

Evie’s bright green eyes widened as she nearly ran across the garage.  “Coffee!  Thank the Maker!  You are a godsend!”

Cullen lifted the hot coffee above his head before she grabbed the cup.  Evie immediately started jumping for the liquid.  “What do you say?”

“Give it to me now before I rip off your head.”  Evie stopped jumping for a second, one eyebrow perked at the man.  “You pick which one.”

Cullen blinked a few times.  She could see the gears processing the statement.  “That’s not nice.”

“So is denying me coffee.”  Evie pouted, gripping Cullen’s shirt.  Her begging face inched closer to his until her lips were just breaths away from his.  She was pressing her luck.  She never flirted like this.  This man made her swoon and hope without saying anything.  “Please…?”  More explicit thoughts rolled through her brain if he continued to deny her the brewed caffeine.  Actually, she might still do such acts even if he did gave her the cup.  Maker, Evie prayed she was not being foolish.  Did he feel the physically and emotional chemistry swirling between them?

The former knight’s hand lowered and offered her the hot contents.  “I didn’t know how you take your coffee, so there is some creamer in the bag as well.  I assumed you had sugar, or do I need to run out for that too?”

“No need for sugar.  It’s perfect!  Just the tallest dark roast available and two creamers, enough to cut the bitterness but keep that smoky thick aroma.”  Evie tapped away giddy by the surprise, taking the grocery bag and pouring its content all over a nearby workbench.  “You got macarons and banana bread too?!  You wonderful man!”

“Save me a macaron.  I haven’t had one since last Satinalia.  My mom makes them with hot cocoa.”  Cullen remarked, watching Evie pour two cups of creamer into the brewed coffee.  Knowing him, he will memorize her preference for future deliveries just like she will forever remember Starkhaven single malt whiskey neat.

“Homemade macarons...”  The dancer drooled, licking her pink lips.  Cullen’s whiskey eyes watched them closely; his black pupils diluting each second they lingered on her lips.  “My personal favorite Satinalia sweet is buckeyes.  My mother loves to bake and makes them just for me.  So good!  I’ll polish two dozen not even thinking about it…until I get on the scales the next day.  If your mom makes macarons, I might crash the festivities just to steal some.”

Cullen laughed and ran his hand through his wavy hair.  “She would like that actually, although that means I would have to go home too.  I won’t want you to suffer alone with my crazy family.  Branson will sense you from a mile away and immediately ask for your number.  Knowing my sisters, they’re probably fans and have endless questions.”

Evie blinked a few times, sipping her coffee.  It was still very warm, but immediately aided her hangover headache.  One part of her mind processed that he would take her to meet his family.  Wow.  She has never met a potential lover’s family.  None of her relationships were serious enough for that.  She always wondered if other families would dislike her like the extended Trevelyan relations.  Her brain’s other half noted the long face he gave with the prospect of going home.  “You don’t visit?  South Reach is not a long drive from here.”

“They…”  Cullen’s eyes glazed while sighing.  Damn it, Evie.  “…It’s hard to go home after being away for so long.  I’m not the same person that I was when I graduated high school.  Even then, I only came home when the academy was on break.  Alistair always had more fun than I did then.”

“So that’s why Alistair never came to Redcliffe for Satinalia.”  Evie replied and tapped her lips, while leaning against the workbench.  “Well, no one is the same as when they were a kid.  Every time I visited from the Circle, everyone remarked that I wasn’t the right.  Just unrefined and too smart to keep my mouth shut.  I couldn’t talk to Rian for a while until he registered I wasn’t a little kid anymore.  That’s still a struggle even now.  It takes adjusting, but we learn from those interactions.”

Cullen exhaled again, stepping closer.   He reached around her for a macaron.  Instantly, campfire scent wafted over Evie with his lavender and sage cologne.  Evie did not think he could smell any better, but Maker, her panties soaked just smelling the combination!  His arm brushed her bicep after grabbing the cookie.  “True, but…it difficult to explain everything…”

Evie now knew the issue.  “It’s difficult for Rian too.”

“At least you all understand more.”  The commander ate the cookie whole.  “You know through your research.  Adelheid and Esme work with him and know the signs.  Your mother is so nice and pleasant.  There is less pressure to explain.  That’s why I spend so much time with Rian and the other former templars.  There’s no need to explain the muscle aches, migraines, or tremors on a bad day.”

The musician tapped his lingering arm to show some sympathy.  “That’s true, but if you don’t talk to them, then they will never understand.  I mean, you spoke just fine with me last night, and I’m practically a stranger.”

“You’re different, Eve.”  Cullen proclaimed, meeting Evie’s worried stare.  He took another step closer, nearly standing in front of her as she leaned against the workbench.  She could slide away, but she wanted to be pinned by him.  “Speaking to you is both easy and nerve racking.”

“I don’t mean to make you nervous.”  The dancer whimpered, biting her lower lip.

Cullen laughed a few times and jokingly glared at her.  He inched closer to her again.  “Says the woman who keeps threatening to send me inappropriate photos.”

Evie straightened her back to meet his glare.  Her pitch was playful and mischievous.  “Like I said, you don’t know what you signed up for.”

“I want to know, though.”  His baritone pitch was low and deep.  Evie felt the vibrations though her chest because he now just stood mere centimeters from her.  Putting down her coffee first, she rested her hands on the bench and bent her elbows.  She leaned back a little, unsure of his intentions.  He purposely entered her personal space just as she had entered his only seven hours before.  However, he could be reaching for more food.  She did not want to misinterpret anything, only let whatever happens happen.  Cullen’s golden orbs gaped down at her, studying her face so closely, but his expression remained stolid.  “I want to know everything about you.”

The dancer attempted to break the stare, but only successfully parted her lips.  Words kept sticking in her throat.  “I’m not that interesting.  Maker’s arse, just look at me.  Sunday morning, and I’m hungover, dressed like a slob, no makeup, and probably smell like an Antivan dive bar.”

Cullen barely shook his head.  “No, you look amazing.  Just like the day I watched you dancing, you look natural, real.  You hide yourself behind makeup or expected façades.  Like this, people truly see you, _I_ see you, and that just makes me what to know more.”

Evie might piss herself.  Why was Cullen not married yet?  There must be a reason to explain his bachelorhood.  Evie has heard Alistair saw such things to his wife in the past.  The musician never imagined hearing a man whisper he preferred her messy and not dolled up.  Cullen may not like her appearance once he see the red lyrium’s other impacts on her skin and medical procedures to allow her to continue playing and dancing.  Yet, in that moment, she wanted to show him everything, give him everything.  Evie could not help herself.

“You, Serah, caught my full attention.”  Evie wisped, swallowing hard.  His eyes watched her throat.  “I want to know you too…like what you’re thinking right now.”

That damn scarred lip smirked down at her as he nudged her chin upward with his left hand.  “I want you to ask me your question again.”

That got Evie’s cheeks burning.  Her mind swam back to her final question before he left.  That same apprehension and hope pulled at her heart.  Her facial skin buzzed feeling his callused finger nudge her chin and brought her body forward and towards him.  He leaned over her form.  He took one final step forward, his body brushing against hers.  His t-shirt and button down were thin as her breasts pressed against his pectoral muscles.  Her abs harden as his weight pressed her against the workbench.  His other hand relaxed by her hip and gripped the table, almost sneaking to her side.

“You…you’ll have to remind me of which question, Serah.”  Evie gasped, wetting her lips again.  Each time she pursed them, their dark pink hue intensified.  She attempted to control her breath, afraid she tasted and smelled like coffee.  “I did have…a lot of tequila last night…”

Cullen’s leer grew with each passing moment, his own cheeks darkening.  “I believe it dealt with you asking to do something, and I said not yet.”

“And will you do that now?”

“If you ask again.”

“Does that take away from one of my future questions?”  Why was Evie stalling?!  She did not want to wait any longer, but her teasing nature just wanted to tug at his control.

“No…and any other _physical interaction_ questions won’t apply either.”

“Oh really…”  Evie sassed, beaming up at him.  “Someone _was_ thinking about me in the shower.”

Cullen groaned, rolling his eyes.  “Ask before I lose my nerve, you minx.”

Evie giggled, tilting her head a little.  “This kept you up, didn’t it?”

“Thus why Surana is so annoyed this morning.”

“And she blames me.”

“Yup.”

“Good.”  That got both of them giggling.  

Finally, Cullen free hand slipped onto her hip and brushed her sweat shirt up.  Evie knew not to stall any longer.  “Will you kiss me?”

“Of course, Milady.”  Cullen replied, quickly closing the last distance between them.

Evie’s bright green eyes closed right as his stubble upper lip brushed hers.  The kiss began tentative and bashful with barely any pressure, but the apprehension quickly disappeared as she reached her toes and pushed herself off the workbench.  Cullen’s grip on her hip intensified as he pressed his full weight against her.  She lowered herself as her hand slid up his arms and around his neck.  Her fingers drifted into his golden blond hair.  It was soft and twisted around her fingers.  His hand caressed her chin, then slid along her jaw releasing a moan from deep inside the musician.

The pressure against their lips grew as they both opened the mouths and tasted one another.  Evie’s tongue reach outward first, immediately finding his.  She pulled him closer, her breasts pressed against his harden chest and earned a groan out of him.  Cullen tasted sweet and wholesome, just like his protective and warm nature when privately alone.  She knew he had not drank in hours, but his lips reminded her of a sweet wine, something specific she could not pinpoint at that moment.  Apparently, Evie also did not have coffee or bad breath because his tongue ventured to her lips, waltzing with hers like two ballroom dancers.

Evie’s sweatshirt was one too many layers at that moment.  She started to sweat the longer their first kiss continued.  Her fingers continued to toss his hair and her other hand followed his broad shoulders and firm back.  His fingers tickled her skin along her side as his fingers flicked up the heavy shirt and the tank top underneath.  His other continued to trace her jaw, then her ear, to her neck nearly making Evie jump out of her skin.  His wandering hand lingered around her neck until they twisted with her messy hair at the base of her neck.  He gently massaged the area, one of her sensitive spots.  A shot ran down her spine, and she involuntarily hitched her hips.  He pressed right back into her, pining her more into the table.  Each passing moment, she felt her arousal climb and satin underwear grow slick.  This was only one single kiss, and she nearly wanted to jump him.

Finally, they departed, gasping for breath both held as long as possible.  Evie slid down again, almost sitting on the workbench so she could reach his level better.  Her bright green eyes glistened with both lust and endearment.  His own amber orbs shimmered down at her, his hands remaining at the nape of her back and neck.  Hers slid out of his hair and thumbed his stubbly jawline.

“That was…nice.”

“ _Nice?_ ”  Evie whimpered, swallowing again.  “I would say that nearly ignited the whole loft.  Heck, the whole town.”

Cullen smirked and shook his head.  “Isn’t that being quite verbose?”

“You give yourself little credit, Serah…”  She hissed, her eyes following her thumb across his jaw to his chin.  “I have little experience with kisses, but Maker, now I’m at your mercy.”

“Little experience?  How has any person _not_ wanted to kiss you?”

“How are you still single?”

“If I may be so bold, you took too long to enter my life.”

Evie’s mouth gaped, her breath lost by the man’s declaration.  His expression shifted to fear.  Whatever her face showed, it scared Cullen to quickly downplay his proclamation.  “I mean-“

Evie’s lips quickly married his again, stealing his words before he could retract the statement.  This time, they danced over one another’s lips more furiously and strongly.  Cullen lifted her a little until she sat on the workbenches’ edge.  On instinct, Evie opened her legs to allow him to hold her more closely.  Her legs wrapped around his core, holding him tightly to her form.  He moaned into her mouth, his hand on her back sliding up and under sweatshirt and tank top.  Evie was suffocating in the sweat shirt.  So, she just grabbed the edges and flipped it over her head.  Cullen and she barely separated to remove the shirt.  Instantly, Cullen’s callused hands were on her again, pushing his tan top higher and exposing her bare sun-kissed skin.  His exploring hand continued upwards towards her left breast, but her built in bra barred his progress.  Damn it!

Evie’s own hands tugged the commander’s shirt collar away and ran down his back.  With her pursuit, the woman’s stretched his t-shirt neck, but it seemed he did not care.  Her fingers followed his spine and shoulder blades, his muscles tensing and trembling as her hand grazed his skin.  He wore too many layers.  He was too far away.  _She_ was too far away.  Two kisses and Evie wanted her nude form pressed against his and feel every inch of his bare skin with her fingers, her lips, and her tongue.  Cullen’s ravenous movements and lips stated he desired the same.  Evie should have met him upstairs.  They would have access to her bed there.  The workbench or her jeep were also possibilities too.  Evie did not care where, just as long as they were together and twisted in their flowing hearts and souls.

Had been it so long that Evie became so physically desperate?  No.  The more she learned about this man holding her, the more it was not enough.  Just as she was curious about his mind and heart, she wanted to learn every scar and muscle that litter the ex-templar’s body.  She studied Cullen, wishing she could read body language like Iron Bull or had Dorian’s confidence.  Evie respected Cullen, not viewing him like a fling like Adelheid, yet she will not wait forever to make a move like Rian. 

Evie did not want to be cliché, but she wanted to spend the rest of her life learning about this person.  She only knew Cullen a week and promised herself to him.  Never in her life had someone busted her defenses and reached _her_ so quickly.  Only once before had someone reached her center, and he walked away when he had his fill, never to call or check on her wellbeing.  Evie vowed after that weekend years ago she would not allow anyone near until she knew everything, but Cullen broke her personal rule.  Did she just know he would respect her or that he will not leave her side?  No, none of it was certain. 

Just like the musician’s earlier thoughts, she knew this man for years, but never met him until last week.  Rian respected and trusted him.  Esme might dislike him, but found honor in his personal code.  Adelheid had not put a bullet into his head, so that meant something.  Dorian was right he was physically gorgeous, but it was not just looks that caught the Tevinter’s attention.  To be a commander, IC’s troops must respect and support his leadership.  All these facts played in her open trust and heart.

Most of all, Evie felt alive and free kissing Cullen so passionately.  Music danced around them, a piano and violin in perfect concert.  She wanted to dance and sing, record everything flowing from her mind and heart.  She feared nothing, ready to seal a mystical breach in the Veil.  Just as long this man hugging and kissing her with his heart remained by her, she will genuinely smile.

_Buzz!  Buzz!_

Cullen and Evie broke apart feeling the workbench’s metal surface vibrated beneath Evie’s firm behind.  Both adults gasped and panted, griping one another’s face and scanned their expression.  A small smile curled Evie’s lips, Cullen’s mimicked her happiness.  His forehead met hers, slightly sweaty by their intense kisses.  She rubbed her nose against his, her smile growing each second.

_Buzz!  Buzz!_

Evie froze, wincing realizing it was her cellphone beside her cooling coffee that broke the spell.  Figures.  Cullen cleared his throat, attempting to gather his breath.  Evie took a deep breath, pulled down her tank top.  One hand grasped her coffee, taking a quick drink to clear her throat, while the other grabbed her buzzing phone.  Her eyes did not catch the caller.

“Hello?”  Evie winced.  Her voice was very raspy.  Cullen chuckled as he walked away from the workbench.  While picking up Evie’s sweatshirt, his attention pulled toward the mabari eying the couple from under the rusty tuk tuk. The war hound witnessed the whole make out session, glaring at the musician like she will rip out her throat. 

_“Evelyn, please tell me you were not still asleep.”_

Evie stopped breathing.  She froze as she slid off the workbench slowly.  “N-no, Rian.  I was just d-doing some voice recording.”  Cullen’s amber eyes flicked over his shoulder right as he kneeled down by Surana.  The commander’s face matched Evie’s:  panic and fear. 

“How are you feeling?”

_“Better.  I slept most of the day yesterday.  I only have a small cough and runny nose.”_

“That’s good to hear.”

_“Look. I feel bad for cancelling our engine rebuilding party.  I figure you are so bored and lonely, especially in such a small town.  I am glad you are getting some recording done.  If you are on break, you want to have lunch somewhere?”_

Evie’s bright smile shrank as reality poured over her.  “I-I don’t want to push your health.  You always push yourself after illnesses.”

_“Oh please!  I forgot about your mothering.  I thought you were bad from a distance.  I am surprised you have come over here three times to attempt to cook canned chicken soup!  No, I am fine.  Come on.  I know a nice diner off the mountain that allows drinking on Sunday.  Mimosas?”_

 The longer the conversation continued, the more Evie realized how bad things were truly.  From her glances, she could tell Cullen started concluding the same thing.  He kept running his hand through his hair and massaging his neck.  They needed to talk now and fast.

“Look, I haven’t showered or anything.”  Evie began, walking towards her sound studio.  “Let’s do dinner instead.  Dinner gives me enough time to pamper myself.  I want to try that Rivaini restaurant I saw on the way to Haven.  That gets me out of town for a while.”

_“I do not know…Cullen strictly stated he needed to be with you any time you were outside the valley.”_

Evie hiccupped hearing Cullen’s name in Rian’s deep bass voice.  The security officer bolted to his feet and glanced over his shoulder towards the front door.  He tossed Evie’s sweatshirt on the jeep hood like he was hiding evidence.  He must have heard his name too and thought Rian was arriving right then.  She shook her head violently and lipped ‘no.’

“O-oh, come on.  H-he won’t know.  After all, you were a templar too.”  She could not contain her anxiety.

_“Are you trying to get my trouble with my best friend?”_

No, but Rian might kill him instead.  “No.  I just like making his life a living Void.”

Cullen rolled his whiskey eyes as he continued to rub his jaw, thinking.

_“The man has been through enough, Evelyn.  I know you are not thrilled about this arrangement, but it is for your own good.  You never know, you might even grow to tolerate him…Find him a good friend like I do.”_

Only friendship.  Maker, that hurt her soul.  “That’s a tall order.”

Her brother coughed a few times through the phone.  _“Look, I will text him, tell him I am armed so if something happens, you will be fine.  See if he will call off the escort too.  It gives you time to live a little.  You sound stressed out and need a break from it all.  I will pick you up at 16:00?  We will take your jeep so I can listen to that clicking you noticed in the transmission.”_

Evie hung her head, nodding.  “Sure.  Fine.”

“Okay, Anky.  I will see you then.  Love you.”

“Love ya, Boo.”

The musician heard the phone click in her ear.  She lowly lowered it, stared at the screen until Rian’s alert disappeared, and tossed it on the workbench.  She rubbed her bright green eyes.  She did not want to cry in front of Cullen, but her emotions ruled her.   Evie definitely could not look at Cullen.  Instead, she kicked her jeep tire with her foot heel.  _“Fuck!”_

“Exactly…”  The bodyguard muttered under his breath.  “He’ll kill us both…”

Evie huffed a few times, finally forcing herself to glance at the man who she just wanted to hold.  “That’s after torturing you for days and keeping me chained and caged.”

“I told him I would be professional…protect you, not get involved.”  Cullen hissed, starting to pace.  “I’m usually not like this.  You’re just so…but I cannot hurt him and break his trust.  He saved my life, Eve.  I strive to be half the man Rian is and here I am…”

“This goes two ways.”  Evie meekly reminded him.  She could tell where this was heading.  The joy and happiness ignited inside her snuffed out by cruel cold reality.  “I practically through myself at you.”

“No, you moved and I moved because we both sensed something.”  Cullen sighed.  Evie struggled to stay so far away from him.  “It’s feels like I’ve know you forever, but it’s because of Rian.  He’s your adopted brother and my boss.  He asked me to protect you and discover who is trying to hurt you.  I must keep a clear mind, an open one.  I cannot effectively do that if…”

Evie nodded, holding herself closely.  “I know.  If the paparazzi found out about you…no, I cannot bring you into my cage, Cullen.  They would publicize your recovery…dig into your past that I can tell is quite difficult and painful by your wincing.  Maker, I wished I never performed in Kirkwall.  I should have told Varric no more and more until he dropped it.”

A single tear fell from Evie’s glossy eyes.  Cullen stepped forward, wanting to wipe it away but kept himself planted in place.  “If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here right now.  I wouldn’t have met you.  I am grateful for this opportunity despite our inability…to pursue this.”

Evie nodded.  “You are a man of honor and respect.  We both care about Rian.  You’ve carried him for so long, Cullen.  What you two share is a brotherly bond that will last a lifetime.  I don’t want to be the cause of you losing such an important ally in your torment.  If that means I cannot kiss you or whatnot, I-I think I can do that.”  She voice cracked as she started to sway.  She grasped the workbench to still herself.

The officer kicked Surana’s tennis ball, sending the hound racing after it.  He kept running his hand through his mane, tugging the top every so often in frustration.  “I…Thank you.  From now on…it’s strictly professional.”  Cullen declared, although he choked a little.  His tone was low and rough.

Evie sighed, biting her lower lip.  “I promise…Professionalism from this point forward.”

Cullen sighed, hanging his head.  His amber eyes were closed as he stretched his tense neck muscles.  Finally, his templar persona stared back her, harder and harsher than the first time they met.  He snapped his fingers at Surana, slowly meandering towards the door.  He stopped at the foyer, barely glancing over his shoulder.   “Good day, Miss Trevelyan.”

Evie winced and hung her head.  She hesitated a few moments before responding.  “Goodbye…Commander Rutherford.”

Her bodyguard nodded and left the garage.  Evie remained rooted in her stance until she heard the front door open and click close.  The automatic lock bolted her inside the loft, alone.  The cold prison closed in around her.  Her heart mourned at the loss of something special.  Evie’s soul gnawed at her to not let this happen, but her mind controlled her.  It kept her fixated on their decision.  The musician slid down the workbench until she was sitting on the flat grey cement, her head resting on her jeep’s wench.  One good cry will cement the walls around her heart again.  It worked before.  It will again.

So, Evie let the tears fall and the screams echo off the warehouse walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *posts chapter and runs for hills*
> 
> If anyone also follows "Fire In your Eyes," you know I posted a rough chapter there too yesterday. I'm so sorry for all the angst! Oh, over-protective brothers...


	11. Spotlight (Cullen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Corporation Disco Party" by Kawehi

Cullen already hated this.

The private jet landed in Denerim ten minutes ago, and Cullen wanted to punch someone.  He already chose who.  Her unamused demeanor stated everything he needed to know:  an Orlesian asskisser.  The woman walked like she owned the world, tapping her high heel boot and leaning to the side with her arms crossed as the entourage exited the plane.  Thank the Maker Krem was nearby just in case Cullen needed to eliminate her.  He would hide the body quickly in a jet engine.

This woman already called Evie seven times from Haven.  Between calls, she texted the musician until she got frustrated and called again.  Each buzzing on her special business cellphone caused the dancer to wince and squeeze her dull bright green eyes shut.  She answered each time, her attention looking out the jet window.  Cullen could hear the Orlesian ranting on the other end about something, usually regarding Cullen’s detail disrupting her plans.  Evie stated it was protocol, not even arguing further.

The last two weeks had been eventful to say the least.  The closer Evie’s Denerim appearance, the more work piled on Cullen’s desk.  Alistair, the greatest man in Thedas, secured a squadron of Grey Warden special operations officers to assist Cullen, Iron Bull, and the Chargers.  The warden nearly arranged to go undercover himself and assist, but he was hosting the event as part of his uncle’s goal to begin his campaign for the presidency nomination next year.  Astrid, Alistair’s wife and fellow police partner, was tempted too, missing the chance to actually work with people that cared and not politicians who enjoyed patting each other on the back for doing nothing.  They saw personally what happened to Ferelden during the Blight and civil war.   As wardens—and possibly the president—they just wanted to help Ferelden become a better place for the people.

Having Captain Nathaniel Howe and his team working with Evie’s detail alleviated Cullen’s stress at little.  Nathaniel was a good friend to both Alistair, Astrid, and the Trevelyans.  He stayed with the family while training in archery and rifle for the Grand Tourney in his youth, familiar with how Trevelyan guards worked.  His crew members were Fereldan, working on internal threats and eliminating them before Evie arrived.  Most were crazed fans.  Professor Fiona Comtois and her mage supporters remained quiet in Redcliffe, not inciting boycotting the event, but also not welcoming it after what happened earlier in the year.  However, templar extremists, still sour about the war’s end, called for people to picket the musician’s appearances, unhappy about her political stance regarding the lyrium trade and the steroid’s over abuse by radical knights.

Cullen had his hands full.

This will be the longest two days of his life.

“Darling, I missed you.”  The Orlesian woman cooed as Evie’s boots clicked on the airport asphalt.  “Welcome back to society, although this is Ferelden, but we will forgive the barbarians for now.  After all, this is your great return.”

“Vivienne…”  Evie, no _Evelyn_ , tilted her head to the side and curled her lips in a smile, the proper mannered persona she used while addressing the public.  “I hope the horrid air is not wrinkling your dainty skin.”

“No, but I cannot stop smelling dog droppings everywhere…”  Evie’s agent hissed, waving a silk handkerchief in front of her dark skinned face.

Surana whined beside Evie, tilting her head like the musician.  She sat down and barked at the talent agent.  Vivienne darted back, holding her hand to her chest.  “My dear, please tell me you did not get a mutt.  If your brother intends to keep you in this dreadful place, you will not accept such lower class customs.” 

Cullen tapped his foot behind the hound and Evie, stating for his mabari to remain in place.  Surana did not move, but he knew she wanted to lung by how her tail sat still and her prepped hind legs readied to pounce.  Evie did not know it, but Cullen purposely instructed Surana to remain at her side at all times, even when he was not present.  The hound glared at him for a while after the order.  He promised he would take her to the Singing Maiden more often and she could sleep on his bed.  Surana grudgingly accepted, still showing her annoyance when in the musician’s presence.

Evie’s agent, Madam Vivienne de Fer, was not an Orlesian noble, but she gave the air she was one.  Background checks showed she was born in the Free Marches, but enrolled in Circle studies in Val Royeaux.  Her expertise in sociology gave her an entrance into Orlesian politics, knowing many of the upper class nobles.  She knew the Trevelyans because she was the mistress of Patricia Trevelyan’s father-in-law until his death four years ago.  Losing her indirect status in the Orlesian monarchy parliament, the woman searched for a new role, becoming Evie’s agent by happenstance.  She approached Varric once the violinist’s video appeared on Nugtube.  Both women disliked Patricia, who wanted to make Evie’s fame quickly disappear since it outshined her own status.  To combat the older Trevelyan sister, Vivienne offered her expertise in promotions and social classes in exchange to use Evie’s celebrity status to build her own wealth.  Evie only agreed after Vivienne successful made her first album go platinum in Orlais.

“Keep insulting the locals, Madam de Fer.  I bet they will warm up to you _very_ quickly.”  An unfamiliar Free Marcher voice lilted from a distant jet hanger.

Cullen’s amber eyes caught Evie’s brightened smile before she dashed forward.  “Philliam!”  She hopped into the older gentlemen’s arms.  He squeezed her tightly.

“The one and only, my dear Phoenix.”

Cullen kept his stolid look, while secretly sighing in relief.  Two other men followed the gentleman in navy blue tailored suits and security ear pieces.  Philliam Trevelyan was Rian and Evie’s great uncle and the head of the family’s security.  The man’s spy network nearly rivalled the Inquisition’s.  Luckily, Leliana and he worked together on all espionage threats or the two would be in an assassination war.  Philliam was charged with protecting Ian’s children, and sometimes, by any means necessary.  The older gentlemen’s presence signified that Trevelyan agents and security were present and protecting Evie’s hotel.  The Chargers and Cullen were specifically stationed around Evie.

Cullen nodded to the two men that reached the group.  Evie hugged and kissed both, receiving an eye roll from Vivienne.  “Hemmingway!  Knotts!  I knew you were around by how all the neck hair stood on end.”

“I tased you once when you thirteen, and you never let me live it down…”  Hemmingway muttered, who was a large Rivaini brute that only the Iron Bull towered over.  “If you had just listened, I would have never done it!”

Evie rolled her bright green eyes, a little dazzling shimmer returned to the spheres after a long plane ride and meeting Madam de Fer.  “And after twenty-nine years, you still have not realized I do not listen to _anyone_.”

The other security personnel nodded to Cullen.  Knotts was a city elf by the lack of Dalish tattoos on his face.  Unlike his partner, he was shorter and thin, but Cullen would not want to challenge him.  Knowing Knotts from past Trevelyan interactions, the man carried at least a dozen throwing knives and four 9mm Berettas at all times.  “Is this true, Commander?”

Cullen’s baritone voice was level and direct, his templar persona in place like all missions.  “We only had to call in the troops twice.”

Evie rolled her eyes again, glancing at Cullen.  His amber eyes never shifted, but internally he was wincing.  Every time she looked at him, he had to tell himself not to move.  “The first time I invaded Skyhold, and the second they lost me at a bar-“

“She was completely drunk and disorderly.”  Cullen huffed, causing the whole group to chuckle.

Hemmingway patted the musician’s head.  “When is she not?”  Evie pouted while the entourage laughed at her expense.

“Well, now that we have all gathered, let us get to the hotel.  Our star has a meet-and-greet in three hours, and we do not want her to miss her debut.”  Vivienne sang, pointing to the row of navy blue SUVs waiting in the distance.

“Technically, I debuted six years ago, Madam.”  Evie sassed before waltzing towards the vehicles with Iron Bull on one side and Surana on the other.

“ _Re_ -debut then, my dear…”  The Orlesian woman hissed, following the group.

Philliam tipped his chin to Cullen as the commander started to walk.  He signaled to join him on their trek to the vehicles.  The man was in his mid-seventies, looking frail to anyone who was not trained.  Philliam purposely gave the age of an elderly man, but he was triple black belt in karate, kung fu, and aikido.  He spent his life protecting his brother, former Bann Cadwgan Trevelyan, his nieces and nephews, and Bann Ian’s children, rarely asking anything in return.  He enjoyed his duty, even when it nearly got him killed too many times to count.  Just within the last year, he took a bullet for Lady Gwen Trevelyan when a former board executive wanted to mentally and psychologically harm Ian.  The spy officer recovered quickly and could not wait to return to duty.  If he was there, that meant Ian was concerned about Evie’s health, no matter if three different groups were covering her detail.

“It is good to see you again, Lion.”  The man purred while they walked.

“I’m no longer a templar, sir.”  Cullen muttered under his breath.  He hated hearing his codename on someone else’s lips but his close friends.  It brought back flashbacks.  The officer knew Philliam called people by ‘pet names,’ especially on missions.  His name for Evie, Phoenix, traveled with her to Orzammar when she was nearly killed by Carta thugs.  Philliam knew about the attack and systematically eliminated that mob arm.  No one else in Carta or Orzammar touched the musician afterwards openly.  That did not mean they would not try again.

“It has been a long time since we have met, Serah.  My apologies.”  Philliam bowed his head a little before continuing.  “I will have to ponder on a new name, hm?”

Philliam always gave Cullen the same long leer than Dorian did during chess games.  Cullen cleared his throat and kept his whiskey attention on his charge.  “What can do for you, Philliam?”

“I only wished to inform you that the meeting is arranged for tonight.”  The man’s tone strengthened and determined his role within the group.  He was not challenging Cullen, but wished to demonstrate he held power over Trevelyan matters.  “Rian expressed you will be attending with Phoenix as both her guard and a close friend to those there.”

Cullen nodded, his eyes remaining locked on Evie as Iron Bull opened her SUVs’ side door.  He would need to hurry to enter the vehicle with her.  “Understood.  Location?”

“Same building, mid-floors as specified.  21:45.”

Cullen nodded.  “Thank you.  She does not know about it yet.”

“I understand it was your idea…”  Philliam grinned, tilting his head.  His sky blue eyes swirled.  That damn Trevelyan feature.  “She will be pleased.”

“Only thinking about making this detail as smooth and positive as possible.”  Cullen retorted stronger than he should have.

“Of course.”

By then, the two men reached the middle navy blue SUV.  Cullen nodded to Philliam as the man entered the back before Cullen.  There were two rows of seats behind the driver and passenger main seats in the elongated middle SUV turned towards one another.  Vivienne faced Philliam, while Cullen would face Evie.  He mentally winced as he took his seat, the last in the vehicle.  Protocol declared Iron Bull would exit the vehicle from the front passenger seat, followed by Cullen with Evie always protected inside at much as possible.

Denerim, Ferelden’s capital city expanded the bay leading to the Amaranthine Ocean, an exciting sight to see for most people.  Cullen preferred Haven after living years in the largest Free Marcher city.  He served in Denerim for a year before his transfer to Kirkwall, not a pleasant time for the former templar.  Cullen visualized the city as the pit of the Void because of the political climate all the time and the devastation after so many catastrophes.  The capital suffered repeated through its history, but the last age had been the worst with the Orlesian occupation, civil war, and finally the Blight.  A specific section of the city still remained inhabitable after the virus tainted the soil.  A fourth of the city’s population died in the outbreak. 

As the line of vehicles travelled down the freeways skirting the city, the commander could see the torn down buildings in the tainted regions, as expansive as a dragon with its wings spread out.  The area encompassed the elven alienage, the docks, and Fort Drakon.  The ancient castle remained operational following the epidemic, housing refugees and orphans until aid relief could relocate them.  Evie’s charity concert would be hosted in the fort’s front plaza with the bay in the sunset background. 

Alistair and Cullen worked together to make the different events as less risky as possible.  Today’s meet-and-greet will only allowed people who donated a specific amount to charity to meet Evie.  It was not for the rich and upper class, but the average person who will not get an opportunity like this again.  Vivienne hated it, requiring that Evie then hold a VIP gathering following the concert for those who ‘truly’ earned such access. 

Both gatherings had select lists of people that the Grey Wardens, Philliam, and Cullen reviewed for possible threats.  Today meeting was the least risky because most of Evie’s adversaries were socialites and the upper crest.  Even then, her stalkers and obsessive fans could be present and cause problems.  However, the actual concert was an open event for those who patiently waited all day for the best observation point.  Cullen knew he planned for any issue, but he will be a nervous wreck when she was on stage and alone.

Cullen glanced at the performer across from him as she stared out the tilted bulletproof windows.  Her head rested against the leather seat, auburn waves and curls flowing around her sun-kissed face.  She looked tired despite layers of concealer and color correction hiding the black and purple bags beneath her eyes.  Her fierce cat-eye eyeliner and three-tone brown and gold eye shadow pulled attention away from her sunken cheeks.  Her string-callused fingers hugged the seat belt laying against her shoulder while attempting to block the sunlight randomly flashing into her green eyes.  She removed her sunglasses while inside transportation, the few moments where Cullen could see how her dull eyes staring out into space.

The officer bit the inside of his cheek, scolding himself for watching her so closely in mixed company.  The last time he had seen her since that Sunday morning was in the reviewing meeting of Evie’s Denerim detail a few days ago.  The musician’s schedule tightened a week before the concert.  Vivienne organized outfit fittings at the loft and Evie’s fellow performers rehearsed new routines she had choreographed.  Most practices and activities would have occurred in Val Royeaux, but Cullen refused the musician leaving Haven so close to the concert.  His ears still rang after those politely insulting phone conversations.  That is why the agent’s scowl at Surana sitting on the SUV floor between everyone made Cullen mentally laugh.  The war hound purposely drooled on the agent’s boots.  From the look on Philliam’s face, he too found the situation humorous.

However, the elder Trevelyan kept flicking his gaze at Cullen before studying his great-niece.  His stare mimicked Ian and Leliana’s, but it always was warm towards the Fereldan officer.  Philliam always respected him despite knowing every single detail of the ex-templar’s life.  Something about his strong attention to him and Evie noted that he may know about what happened in her loft so many weeks ago.  Maker, Esme probably did bug Cullen’s phone.

The security officer fought constantly not to think about that Sunday morning.  He never slept that night before, getting back to his apartment and needing a long hot shower just to sober his mind and regain his strength to resist Evie.  He found himself working until the early morning hours on random tasks that he never finished.  He hoped the constant work would allow to sleep to claim him from his desires, but Evie stayed in his mind and heart.

By dawn, Cullen called Surana for an early morning run and work out.  The war hound barely slept and flicked her tail in disgust.  He prayed the run and few hours in Skyhold’s gym would still his tempted heart.  It did not.  If anything, it made him antsier.  He returned back to apartment, shower again, and decided he needed to see if she was well.  Remembering her lack of coffee, he stopped by Haven’s coffee shop, picked up a regular large fresh brew, and a bag of whole bean coffee.  By then it was 10:00.  He figured she still in bed, recovering from a night of drinking and talking.  No, not only was she wake, but as mischievous as ever.

Maker, Cullen never envisioned what would transpire.  His mind kept replaying her question the whole drive to her loft.  He told himself he did not have the nerve to say anything, determining Cullen lost his chance with his personal limitations.  The officer nearly fell over seeing her messy hair and plain face meeting his gaze as soon as he entered the building.  He believed her teasing texts was just to get a rise out of him, not an actual need to shower.  He struggled forever thinking on how to respond to that shower text, almost typing he would just join her.  He wished he had when he met her shimmering bright green eyes.

The teasing and sassiness that followed occurred because that same peace he felt before he left Evie’s loft only hours before returned like a magnet attracting the two people together.  Words flowed out of his mouth almost like it was someone else.  He rarely stuttered as they spoke about his home and trouble talking to family.  Every sentence she spoke confirmed to Cullen that Evie was special.  He could not pinpoint what characteristic that drew him closer like she was planet and he was lost moon pulled into her orbit.  Cullen kept repeating in his head ‘ _do not let this woman go_.’

Their first kiss confirmed Cullen was hooked and will not leave her again.  Strangely, there was a familiarity to that first kiss that he could not determine.  All of his former girlfriends’ affections were not that intense and passionate as what transpired between Evie and him.  His heart and soul knew, but his mind refused to connect the pieces.  The following kiss only cemented his need for her.  He will never move beyond her ever again, and the commander did not want to.  Cullen wanted to claim her for himself right there.  He hated how barbaric he felt inside, but their tight and strong movements stated it was a shared emotion. 

However, Cullen respected Evie.  She was not a woman to take advantage immediately.  She deserved being cherished and held.  He sensed her insecurities and doubt in herself, almost mimicking Cullen’s own feelings about himself.  Each kiss excited them as well spoke the need to be glued together and made anew.  The commander was a fractured recovering lyrium addict who suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).  She was an upper class celebrity who sang, danced, and played for thousands, trapped and scared in that world and dying to break free.  Somehow kissing her, she told him he deserved her.  Cullen needed to value himself as much as he believed in her.  None of it made sense, but he did not care.  In any case, it was the best twelve hours of his life.

The whole exchange should have clued Cullen for the inevitable downfall.  Rian called, his best friend and mentor.  He just made out with his sister without considering all the consequences.  Cullen damned those secondary thoughts that rolled around his mind since they met the week before.  He pushed all lustful emotions away by the time she hung up the phone.  He could tell by her watering bright green eyes she figured out their mistake. 

The officer used Surana to keep him rooted in place and not rush to comfort her.   Internal panic attacks raked his body as the lyrium withdrawal hit him right at that moment.  He finished his explanation to remain professional.  She agreed, showing how the realization crushed her.  He could not watch her shatter and quickly left like the craven he truly was.  He sped to Skyhold, screaming cuss words until his voice was hoarse and dry.  By the time Rian texted about taking Evie to dinner with no detail, he fired over ten clips out of his M1911 at the castle’s range, all head and chest shots. 

How could Cullen have been so stupid and sophomoric?  Evie was a goddess, and he was battered old soldier that will spend the rest of his life alone and repenting.  In some ways, Cullen’s exploitation demonstrated he was the same man as his first year as a knight, a new templar who could not see the consequences in anything he did.  The former knight might no longer drank and acted out while under lyrium and alcohol’s influences, but he sat up all night yearning for women to comfort him after nightmares.  He stopped years ago taking random women home for a one-night stand despite knowing the pain and anguish will still be there when he woke.  Too many people died or were left forever broken by his choices. 

Thank the Maker for Rian.  The Inquisitor provided him a path and prove to himself and others that he was a better man.  What does Cullen do?  He repaid him by attempting to seduce his sister, the woman Rian cherished and worried about constantly.  Rian asked him to protect her when he should have told him to never go near her.  All external threats were nothing compared with him.

However, Cullen determined sitting across from the woman that he would gladly die for Eve Trevelyan without a second thought.  He still desired to know her mind, heart, and soul because he wanted to see at least one beautiful being in this crazy world.  Their shared kiss revealed a part of Evie that only appeared in her dancing and music.  After their kiss, he played her music and mentally revisited seeing her practice in her loft.  A new aspect rose from each talent he never noticed before.  With each note and movement, she told her tale.  She rarely sang because words were not required to explain her message.  Some songs spoke of faraway places no one will ever see.  Her flips and bending conveyed actions stated more than words.  Each part of her performance coiled together and expressed her heart.

The officer realized staring at her in that SUV he might not physical speak to her, but he will learn everything about her just by watching and listening.  He felt like a moth flying towards a glowing rich flame that pushes back the shadows and guides the lost away from the precipice.  Cullen hated the risks and crowds that surrounded her events, but suddenly, he looked forward to seeing her perform live.  He may have to wear his commander mask and shield her from her enemies, but he could stand firm beside her.  He will listen and learn about Eve Trevelyan with neither person needing to speak or touch.  Kissing her gave him that view, and he will take that insight and cherish it completely.

“…ugh.  Turn it off.”  Evie groaned deep in her chest, pulling him from his revelations to the now.

“Hush, child.  They bring the audiences.  Have you not noticed all the billboards along the freeway?”  Vivienne referred the large signs as they passed by.  “Since your commander refused allowing to have meet ups and interviews, we must rely on the advertising.”

Cullen’s ear attuned to what the women were referencing.  Hemmingway was playing the local radio and casting it through the SUV.  _“…since her disappearance from the public eye four months ago, people have speculated the artist had left her fame and fans behind.  However, this performance demonstrates she is more than pretty promising words.  Rumors state she will debut some new music and dance never seen or hear.  Come to Fort Drakon’s Bay Amphitheater to witness the enchanting performance of Evelyn ‘The Phoenix’ Trevelyan.  Now, some Maryden Halewell with her Fereldan ballad…”_

“I wish you would have composed some lyrics to your new piece.”  Vivienne sighed, adjusting the ridiculous silverite two horned headdress.

“Who said I did not?”  Evie remarked, her eyes flashing to Cullen for a split second.

The agent flicked her head at her client.  “If you did, you will sing it tomorrow!  Vocal music spreads faster than your dance and violin compositions.  People will sing the lyrics for days after the concert.”

Evie bit her lip.  “I-I…I do not want the critics sassing I still have a nasally sound.”

“Do it, Evelyn.  I can tell you want to.”

The musician held her breath, her persona failing.  “Prepare it, but I make no promises.”

“Such an insolent woman…”

“Look in the mirror, Madam.”

Cullen compared the two women before him, specifically the unnerved faces following the quick quips.  Both were Free Marchers, despite one more unconventional like a Fereldan and the other dying to be Orlesian.  One woman wore a full length turtleneck dark yellow sweater dress that covered her arms with black tights and knee high bear leather high heel boots.  A Fereldan colored plaid drooping scarf and hanging ancient gold garnet earrings tied the autumn ensemble together.  Her hair was loosely tied back at the top into a sloppy bun while her lower curls and waves graced her shoulders, chest, and back. 

The other woman wore a tight tan coat that was unbuttoned around her bust to show her red blouse’s plunging neckline.  The skin-tight black pants bended into thigh high canine leather boots, which gave her more height to her already tall form.  The woman probably worn that animal skin just to piss off the Fereldan people.  She looked good with a shaved head, but that stupid helm covered the allurement.  Her large silverite and diamond earrings looked like they could feed a family of twenty for a week.

Both appearance stated each person’s goal.  Evie demonstrated a need to relate to everyone, not just those of her birthright class.  Vivienne screamed people to see her and admire her graceful aging.  She was not born into wealth, but she refused to acknowledge her roots.  Instead, she utilized her new station to gain audiences with everyone, primarily for her own gains.  It was easy to see that this was uneven relationship.  It was true Evie would not be able to make the proper connections on her own, but she needed someone like Josephine working with her in her career.  Too bad Rian could not replicate the Public Relations officer. 

Evie searched for acceptance and found only more chaos.  She wanted people to like her for herself, thus she dressed like she was about to meet a few friends at a coffee shop.  Instead, the meet-and-greet will house hundreds of people wishing to take a photo with her or ask for her autograph.  Cullen understood that this was fame, but the woman shared her talent to help those suffering. 

The officer witnessed a shift in her gaze as they drove closer to the venue.  Her fake meek smile graced her face.  Her eyelids hung half over her bright green eyes.  Her back stiffened and her hands fell into her dainty lap.  Lastly, her head turned away from the window and lowered, looking as though she fell asleep.  Right as the SUV turned off the freeway and approached the hotel, the woman lifted her head and opened her eyes.  Cullen knew that face quite well.  The first time he met her she gave that same striking gaze, a façade engrained into her psyche since birth.   He could already hear in his head her speech change to proper common tongue and its little Free Marcher lilt.

Eve Trevelyan remained on the plane.

This person was Evelyn Trevelyan, or as her fans called her ‘the Herald of Andraste, the Maker Bride’s Phoenix.’

Cullen already hated this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see what Evie's outfit looks like, [click here](https://thejeeperswife.tumblr.com/post/175477166284/the-first-photo-is-what-i-envisioned-evies-dress)!


	12. Reunion (Evie/Cullen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this early. Just wanted to.
> 
> Chapter Song: "Girl That You Love" by Panic! At The Disco

“Where are we going, Commander?”  Evie sighed, rubbing her temples as her antsy feet danced between one another in the elevator.  Her headache would not relent despite four aspirins and a cold press.  The musician knew its origin came from a specific Orlesian bitch who could not keep her disdain for Ferelden to herself.  Thank the Maker Vivienne quickly left to attend some meetings with magazines once they arrived at the meet-and-greet.

The donor fan event was actually fun and refreshing after so many months away from the limelight.  Her fans were excited to see her perform and wondered when she would release her next album.  That nearly gave her a panic attack.  The one song she composed for the charity event nearly absorbed all her inspiration, but it essentially wrote itself and poured all of Evie’s emotions about the last few months into a few instruments and dance moves.  The idea of more music felt exhausting and nearly told her detail to escort her right back to Haven.  

Yet, she stayed, somewhat thankful for the war hound that followed the musician everywhere.  Everyone asked if it was her mabari.  Surana answered that question by barking and skipping over to Cullen in the shadows and out of sight, then returned to her side.  Evie believed people took more photos of the mabari than her.  The press’ flashing camera lights and their constant call outs only made the thumping inside her skull worse.  Evie never enjoyed talking to the press, but Vivienne was right.  If she was not taking interviews, she will need to speak and act accordingly.

That evening’s concert walkthrough felt like someone kept driving nails into her temples and poured water into her aching ears.  The venue held a specific purpose, but sound carried strangely off the stone and water.  She could barely hear herself speak let alone her violin.  The whole rehearsal was a bust when some sound equipment failed and her accompanying quartet were trapped in a foreign airport.  Evie believed that meant she could go back to the hotel and pass out.  She no longer had the same stamina she possessed during tours and her first performances.  She prayed tomorrow will not bomb like her last tour shows last year.  The musician did not need the bad press.

So when Cullen knocked on her top floor executive suite door, she nearly told him off and slammed the door in his face.  Evie _hurt_ ; her mind, body, and soul encouraging her to leave this career behind.  However, something about the officer’s expression immediately changed her mind.  For weeks, the ex-templar wore that damn templar persona, so extreme and stern it nearly made her puke.  There was such a huge stick up his ass, Evie wondered if he ever took a dump. 

That Denerim day was the first time Cullen and she spent more than an hour in each other’s presence.  Evie felt his amber eyes studying her across the SUV taking them to the hotel.  She kept her eyes focused outside, hoping maybe the anxiety would settle down.  It did not work, so as they pulled off the freeway, she placed her well-mannered, upper class mask and prepared for the onslaught.  That got the first rise out of the Fereldan officer.  It was not a pleasant gaze, but it was the first sign he could stop being a hard ass if he wanted to or had a reason.

That is what Cullen’s expression stated at her door that night nearly at 22:00.  The templar harden exterior remained, but there was a small curl to his scarred lip and a glimmer in his amber orbs that nearly broke her.  She believed that stolid persona would be how he treated her for the foreseeable future.  Evie wondered if he wanted to hang out, but he told her to follow him.  Thank the Maker she was still dressed and had not taken off her makeup.  She zipped up her boots and retouched her eyeliner and lipstick, asking if she needed to bring identification.  Cullen only advised her driver’s license, but no money or keys.  That intrigued her, so she allowed him to guide her to the elevator where Surana waited.  All three beings entered the lift with no idea what will happen next.  One quick thought of him switching the elevator to emergency off mode to ravage her crossed her mind, but quickly shoved that out of her head.

It will never happen, Evie.  It can never happen.

“You ready for tomorrow?”  The officer asked as the floors slowly skipped by.

“Yes, as best as I can.”

“What animal will you personify?”

Evie’s eyes flicked to her right where he stood in military relax stance like he never spoke.  He knew about her performances more than he let on.  “…a red fennec.  Nimble, fierce when it could stock its prey, but easy to frighten.  The last piece made me decide on that animal.”

“Your new composition.”  Cullen replied.  Once again, he surprised her.  “You told Vivienne it had lyrics.  Will you sing?”

Evie bit her lip.  She knew the lyrics by heart because that was where they came from.  “I do not know.  People are amazed I can sing, dance, and play at the same time, yet I prefer my dance and violin to sing the words for me.  I understand Vivienne’s view that people cannot repeat a melody as easily…Also, I know my voice is not my strong talent.  I-I am scared what the vocals will do to the piece.”

“You’re afraid it will be more directly connected with what you feel inside.”

Evie bore her gaze at the elevator floor, trying to control her breath.  “It makes it real…difficult to live with.”

“Publish the words after the concert instead.  Play and dance as you intend it.  Release a version not in front of so many people with the lyrics.”

Evie smiled up at Cullen.  His amber eyes finally turned towards her, that small curl to his lips that the stolid face allowed brightened her within.  “Thank you.  I will consider that.”

The elevator stopped on a strange floor about seven stories down.  Cullen waved outward as the door slid open.  “Go on.”  Evie swallowed and prepared her mannered expression.  “Relax.  No need for that.”

The musician threw him a look, blinking a few times.  Once again, the templar stared down at her right outside the elevator, but his upper lip scar made her curiously cautious much like a fennec.  She tilted her head and bit her lip.  All she needed was someone catch her being mischievous or stupid.  She decided to keep her Patricia face and stepped forward.

The floor had very few guest doors, but the rooms did not seem large.  Cullen walked beside her with relaxed shoulders and a little hop in his step like he just took a cookie from the jar without his mother finding out.  That really brought up Evie’s defenses.  She could say she trusted Commander Rutherford.  The man was an ex-knight and trained in many forms of combat.  Knights’ perception and agility were legendary. 

_Cullen_ , who peeked out from behind that mask, was a different matter.  In the weeks since kissing him, Evie built defenses around her mind, body, and soul so that she would not crumble at the realization she will never kiss him again or feel his warmth against her core.  His scent still annoyed her with soaked loins, but she restrained herself.  She repeatedly told herself he was just another man assigned to her detail.  Her brother believed he could protect her.  She did not need to know more about what happened to him as a knight.  She will not feel depressed at Satinalia for missing his mother’s homemade macarons.  Evie needed to finish that bag of whole bean coffee and not treat it like it was a holy grail that could give her eternal caffeine every time she woke up hungover, which was now nearly every day.

Walking down that hall, Evie reminded herself to delete their text exchange.  Every time she held her personal phone, she forgot to do it.  She did not have it on her person that trip, knowing she would have little time for chats and whatnot.  The bodyguard sent her no messages since and never will.  This was strictly professional.

The pair and the mabari stopped in front of an unmarked door down a dark corridor.  Dark thoughts trickled into her head like Cullen had people set to kidnap her or there was an emergency and he needed to get away as quick and calmly as possible.  The dancer kept her defenses in place as Cullen motioned for the door knob.

Evie gritted her teeth, unsure what awaited her.  She turned the knob and pushed.  Light flashed in her shadowed face.  She could not see in clearly.

“About time you got here.”

Evie’s mouth gaped and all her worries and aches disappeared.  “Holy shit!"

 

* * *

 

Cullen watched Evie race forward and lung into Alistair’s waiting arms.  The man spun her around a few times before finally releasing his grip.  The musician still hung onto his shoulders with both feet up looking like a human size ornament.  Alistair glanced at him with a look pleading for his friend help.  The security officer chuckled to himself and shook his head no.

“Evie, down before you throw Ali’s back out _again_.”  A female voice called from around a corner. 

The new voice caused Evie to jump back to her feet and let go.  She skipped over to the woman and kissed her on the lips long and hard and grabbed her breast.  “Hey, Beautiful!”

Cullen blinked a few times, dumbfounded by the exchange as Astrid also grabbed Evie’s breast.  “Hiya, Sunshine.”  Alistair’s wife replied happily.  The officer threw Alistair a look and only saw the warden smirking and shrugging. 

Alistair waved Cullen towards the room’s bar while the women started to giggle and laugh.  They sat down on the sofa immediately jumping into gossip and whatnot.  Cullen’s mind kept attempting to process what he just witnessed as Alistair poured him a whiskey into a tumbler.

“Don’t mind them.  They’ve been like that since college.”  The Grey Warden informed his childhood friend.  “We disappeared as soon as Evie locked eyes on Asty.  Don’t expect them saying anything to us for a few hours.”

Cullen was caught off-guard again.  “They went to school together?”

Alistair nodded, refilling his tumbler as well.  “Yup.  Small world, huh.  Asty went to Ostwick State for undergraduate.  That’s how I met her before she joined the wardens.  Evie invited me to come visit after I graduated the academy, excited for me to meet her roommate-turned-girlfriend.”

Cullen nearly spat out of his sip of whiskey.  “Girlfriend?!”

Alistair burst out laughing, slapping his friend’s shoulder.  “I see you haven’t heard about Evie’s college years yet.  Yup!  Both admit it was a freshman year experiment that didn’t work for them specifically.  I feel partly responsible for breaking them up, but Evie stated it was for the best.  As soon as she saw Astrid and I talking, she knew it was a match made in the heavens.  A few months later, Astrid dropped out of school and joined the wardens, the blight hit, and we were together everywhere afterwards.  The only reason why Evie wasn’t Astrid’s maid of honor was because it was too dangerous to come to Ferelden.  We did elope after all.”

“This coming from the man who called me a week after the marriage saying, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m married.  Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.’”  Cullen muttered under his breath.

“It was in the middle of a civil war and a blight.  You were dealing with crap at your base, and we just wanted to do it before either one of us got killed.  Leliana was only there because she was the one who married us.  Asty’s parents died in the Blight, and you know my story.  It just made sense.”  Alistair defended himself, slightly panicked by Cullen’s grimace.  “You know I would have had you there under any better circumstances.”

It was Cullen’s turn to pant the warden’s shoulder.  “I’m not piss about that.  After all, you two did…”  The officer stopped his sentence and gripped the hotel room bar tightly.

Thank the Maker no one noticed. 

“So, how is protecting the Trevelyan Family?”

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, his ears ringing and his head thumping as the panic attack fought his personal will.  Evie’s Free Marcher lilt cut through the buzzing and brought him back to the room.  She was giggling and speaking about something from her college years.  Knowing she was near actually calmed his nerves to response to Alistair’s question.

The bodyguard pulled at his chin.  “Interesting to say the least…”  His tone was rough as the PTSD simmered deep inside his chest.

“Rian is a walk in the park compared with Evie.”  Alistair kept his golden eyes focused on his friend, prepared to act if needed.  His eyes only flicked away when Cullen glanced over his shoulder and studied Evie on the sofa.  “Evie can make things impossible.”

“You have no idea.”  Cullen muttered a little too loudly.  Each second watching the auburn haired woman talk and act more normally, the easier breathing came to his troubled soul. 

“I wasn’t meaning her random nature either.”  Alistair sighed, taking another sip of whiskey.  “She likes to push people, usually to be better than they are.  Rian is the same way.”

Cullen winced and froze hearing his best friend’s name on Alistair’s lips.  “I would do anything for Rian.”

“And I hope Evie as well.”  Alistair added.  “When you called and said you were on her detail, I sighed in relief.  Unlike Rian, Evie doesn’t know how to truly protect herself.  Yes, her family trained her to fight, but I mean Evie has no one supporting her and protect her from the world.  Rian has always been self-sufficient and has attempted to look out for his sister, but that is not Evie needs now.”

Cullen eyed the warden, noting that perked eyebrow wrinkling his forehead.  “That is not of my concern.  I have a job, and I am fulfill it for the Inquisitor.”  He hoped his snappy reply will keep Alistair from continuing.

It did not.

“I get you, but I bet Rian did not select you for just your handsome features and charming personality, Commander.”  Alistair joked, poking Cullen in the side.

Cullen threw the warden a nasty look.  “Rian already threatened to bury me in Esme’s front yard with all the other people who looked at Evie twice.”

“Yeah, I know that threat.”  Alistair laughed a few times.  “I went back to Redcliffe during a military academy break.  First time I saw the Trevelyans after five years.  Evie was fourteen and no longer that tomboy who climbed Eamon’s apple trees.  I guessed my mouth gapped, and Rian punched me in the nose.  Broke it worse than you that one boxing practice.”

“You never could properly defend yourself.  You always hold your left arm wrong to block a right hook.  I always got you just right even when I corrected your stance.”

“I think you just liked showing off to all the girls who watched our practices.  Good thing it was me enjoying blackening your honey eyes, huh?”

The bodyguard rolled his amber eyes.  “Please, I already had Philliam hitting on me today, and Dorian won’t stop since the first time we played chess.”

“Speaking of chess…”  Alistair pointed to a side table.  “I figured you need a few games after your day.”

Anything to stop the man from insinuating Rian assigned him to protect his sister for more than friendship.  “Please…!”

 

* * *

 

“So you and Cullen…”  Astrid cooed, watching to the pair of handsome men pour drinks and talk by the bar and out of earshot.

“The commander is my annoying brute.”  Evie bluntly stated.  She knew her friend would immediately think something was happening between them.

“And Alistair absorbed all the punches when we were wardens.  Still doesn’t mean I didn’t kiss all his bruises at night.”  Astrid giggled, leaning back against the white sofa.  Her raven black hair poured over the back as her tall ponytail draped behind her.  Her moon grey eyes studied Evie closely.  The other woman knew she searched for any telling signs she was right.

There was no way Evie could hide the truth.  Unlike Astrid, Evie was an open book, her emotions written across her face like a neon sign.  Astrid always had the upper class poise that kept everyone in the dark about how she felt.  Very few people knew the small telling signs she did display.  The musician learned one or two when they were roommates and dated for a few months during their freshmen year of college.  The warden’s lips darkened when thinking about something dirty or she twisted her long hair around her thumb and index finger when she was anxious.  Alistair surely knew more signs after nearly ten years of marriage.  He would not tell her anyway in fear of his wife ripping off his balls.

“Two kisses before Rian called and reminded us that he will murder us in our sleep if he found out.”  Evie admitted, then bit her lip.

“Oh no…”  Astrid moaned, covering her face with her hand.  “My condolences…When we heard Rian assigned Cullen to your detail, Alistair and I thought you two would be great together.  Those two have known one another since Alistair was fourteen and Cullen started at the academy.  For a time, they texted all the time, even when Ali visited us in college, but Cullen…he’s had a difficult life, more than the typical templar.”

Evie nodded.  “I figured as much.  Just more reason to keep his distance from me.  I don’t have the greatest track record.”

“Oh please…”  Astrid rolled her grey eyes.  “It was best you never got a call from that Kirkwall ass.  Cullen is different, a soul that believes he deserves nothing, but still holds onto hope that something good might happen.  On the other hand, you trust no one, including yourself, and keep everyone at a distance.  At the same time, you want to be loved and accepted for who you are, not for all these titles shoved in your face.”

“I have problems, Asty.”

“-caused by red lyrium poisoning.  I have seen the scars and discolorations.  You might find them disgusting, but if you were more secure about yourself, you will display them happily and tell your story.”  Astrid advised, smiling a little.  “Besides, you know we’ll sleep together again if there is enough tequila and rotgut vodka in the private bar.”

“True enough, but you’re put off by the scars.  I see it in your grey eyes every time I uncover myself.  Anyways, not everyone can be you, perfect and composed.”  Evie sassed back, giggling.  “I see the promotions for you two for the nomination.  Two people who have served Ferelden, orphaned and alone, who only want to support of their fellow people.  Alistair gets the crowds laughing with his silly jokes and charming awkwardness.  You speak with that perfect tone that inspires Astrid nodded her head as a bow and smiled.  Her eyes flicked to the two men turning towards the chess board on a table.  “It seems I will have to console my husband tonight.”

Evie blinked a few times.  “Why’s that?”

“They are playing chess.  Alistair maybe wins a game out of ten against Cullen.”  Astrid pointed to the men choosing their colors and making first moves. 

Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  “Astrid, I know what you’re doing and it won’t happen.  We both have agreed to stay strictly professional.  Rian means a great deal to him.  I will not break their bond in any way.  They both demonstrated templar knights can break lyrium.  The Inquisition gives the commander purpose.  I refuse to jeopardize his career.  Cullen is honorable and duty-bound…a man who holds himself to limitations that I can only admire and support from afar.”

Astrid tilted her head, studying her friend closely.  “Even if it hurts you?”

Evie nodded, biting her lower lip.  “Like a thousand needles.”

“Could you talk to your brother?  Maybe give him some hint of how you feel…how _both_ of you feel?”

The dancer shook her head violently.  “Absolutely not.  If it was Adelheid or Patricia, it would be different.  I’m Rian’s anchor.  He never found out about what happened in Kirkwall and why I even got that spike in my arm, or that man would be dead by midnight.  Sometimes, I think about telling him just so I can punch that fucker in the face.”

“He will over protect you until you die an old maid with dozens of cats and mabari if things continued like this.  Rian might be more willing if it was a friend.”

Evie sighed and rubbed her temple.  “That’s even worse.  What if we didn’t work or something bad happened?  It would make everything so awkward.”

Astrid huffed.  Evie knew what her friend was trying to do.  She always wants her friends to be happy like her and Alistair, finding any way to resolve an issue.  She hates conflict and will find diplomatic ways to defuse stress.   If her honey words cannot assuage the opponent, she fights, and she was quite scary when she gets out her gun.

“I’m fine, Astrid.  I promise.”  Evie assured the warden, rubbing her exposed knee peeking out from under her dress.  Her gentle touch rose goosebumps across Astrid’s fair skin.  Evie’s friend’s lips darkened, signaling that Astrid imagined them in bed together again.  Maker, Evie might just bed her friend again just to forget the heartache.  Alistair does not mind too.

Astrid smirked, tickling Evie’s exposed neck with a fingertip.  “Does he know about us?”

Evie giggled, knowing that wicked grin.  “Nope…!”

“Unless Alistair told him by now.  You should have seen his face when we kissed.  Priceless.”

Evie bit her lip, while chuckling.  “Oh, we got to mess with him.  There is no cameras that could disrupt the nomination, right?”

Astrid waved her hand.  “Please…if someone found out about this, they have enough evidence somewhere else a hundred times worse, remember?”

Evie’s face went white.  “Please.  Neither one of you tell him about that.  We all need release sometimes.”

Astrid kissed Evie’s forehead.  “He will not know, although your pale face tells me you care about him a great deal.”

“He’s gorgeous, Asty.  Who wouldn’t?”

“I did not mean about his looks.”  Astrid then growled.  “Damn Rian.  Your children would be the talk of Thedas-“

“-Astrid!”

The woman stood up and straightened her navy blue cocktail dress.  “Come on, Sunshine.  Let’s distract them until they fall apart.  Maybe Alistair will have a shot winning.”

Evie took her outstretched hand and stood as well.  “First shots.  I’m _thirsty!_ ”

Astrid winked.  “That is what you said the last time we saw each other, and look how quickly the clothes went flying…”

Evie turned three shades of embarrassed.  “…you are a mean woman.”

“You enjoy it.”

Evie followed behind the woman hand-in-hand.  “Yes, yes I did… _too_ much.”


	13. Accompany (Evie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Wide Awake (Cover)" by Bryson Andres (Originally by Katy Perry)  
> Remember to check out "Handle With Care" playlist on Spotify! Just search "Handle With Care" and it should pop up! Updated with each new chapter!
> 
> Part 1 of 3 of Charity Concert. Enjoy!

Evie rubbed her temples hard, trying to avoid messing up the thick stage makeup.  Her makeup technician had just left to continue her pampering on some backup dancers.  The hair dresser stated she would back to finish her styling after replenishing her hairspray.  Evie’s typically unruly auburn hair was in multiple braids along her hair like snakes that led to a set of braided buns behind hand-crafted fennec ears.  The ears were made of glitter, wires, and faux fur so under the stage lights they would glisten and reflect.  Just an hour ago, the auburn curls were a wild mess, matching the crazy night the singer had with her old friends.

The musician was used to being hungover and performing, but it was never easy.  The times she did get blitzed drunk the evening before a big show, it was with people who could not out drink her.  Alas last night, she was drinking with Astrid Cousland-Theirin, the woman whose liver could process most alcoholic drinks in the half the time.  Alistair always had been a light weight, stumbling over his words after two whiskeys.  On the other hand, his wife barely batted an eye taking her double vodka shots.  Feeling like she could not let her friend drink alone, Evie matched her stupidly with tequila until she passed out some time after the ninth shot.

A pale callused, strong hand placed a tall cup of coffee on her dressing room table among the makeup and other necessities for her performance tonight.  Evie’s red-shot eyes flicked up to the tall mirror in front of her to see that damn cheeky smirk her Fereldan bodyguard enjoyed giving when she acted like a buffoon.  Unlike her, he looked sharp and kempt in his grey three piece suit and pressed white button up.  His silk tie was adorn with mics and other items needed for his detail.  His hair was styled with pomade and without a blond wave out of whack.

“The largest dark-roast coffee available with two creamers, correct?”  Cullen cooed, while tilting his head to the side.  He placed his hands in his pockets.  “I noticed you had not had your hangover coffee yet.”

If Evie did not feel like mabari shit at the moment, she would have said something cheeky to make him regret indirectly mentioning that wonderful morning two weeks ago.  As the dancer predicted, he remembered her coffee order, but only supplied it today not as a way to get a delayed kiss, but to prepare his charge for her major charity concert.  So instead, Evie picked up the foam cup and sipped.  Her eyes rolled into her head feeling the caffeine powering over her headache and aching joints.

While taking a few sips of the hot liquid, the musician glanced around her dressing room.  Astrid and Alistair sent her two dozen white and blue roses as thanks for the charity concert.  As tradition, her mother and father sent a dozen lilies based on the current seasonal species.  These specific ones looked like a Rivaini species.  Her parents knew their lilies and how much she appreciated their encouragement from so far away.  A few donors sent other flowers and cards in hopes Evie would call them on stage or something.  However, she was too scared of the predators hunting her in the crowds.

That was why Commander Cullen Rutherford stood by her with his war mabari.  Cullen was performing a duty for his best friend, Evie’s brother, just as she was providing her fans and donors music and dance.  They had an honor and duty to their professions…and it slowly destroyed Evie’s heart and soul each moment.

Once fully burying the thunderous pain wincing from her walled heart, Evie spoke, “How come you are so chirper and not dying?”

Cullen chuckled once and shrugged.  “I learned quickly not to meet Astrid drink for drink.  Besides, I was working.  One whiskey and that was it.  After all, I had to babysit you until you finally fell asleep.”

Oh yeah.

Evie groaned, smacking her forehead.  “I’ll buy you a new suit and shoes.  That vomit will never come out.  Tequila smells horrific after lingering in stomach acids.”

“You owe Surana a tennis ball more like it.  I thought it looked mangy before…”  The commander just shrugged again, his cut lip still smirking at her expense.  “Dorian warned me that you cannot hold your liquor sometimes.  He showed me his long tab for dry cleaning waiting for the day he needs money quick to give it to you.”

“It’s probably in the millions now then.”  Evie grunted, popping her neck a few times.  “I was dressed when I woke up, so that means I did not do my typical clothes shedding and streaking naked.  Your loss.”

Cullen nodded, turning slightly red noticeable against his fair Fereldan skin.  “True, but you and Astrid did make out something awful.”

Evie glared at him in the mirror.  “That was to distract you so Alistair could win the game.”

“You failed then.  I wiped the chess board with him.”

Evie flopped her head down on the vanity, shrinking in herself to avoid further embarrassment.  Why was she embarrassed and ashamed?  They were nothing but professionally connected.  He was fulfilling a job, and she was his charge.  Nothing else will ever happen between them.  “I know you have questions about it.”

The bodyguard did not speak for a few moments until, “She’s your ex-girlfriend?”

“Yup.”  Evie replied with her lips against the table.  “My first relationship really.  I invited my best friend to meet my girlfriend, wanting to show him that I was finally making my own personal choices.  I could love anyone I wanted and not be pushed into Trevelyan expectations.  Alistair congratulated me, happy that I was finally living my own life not controlled by my family or the Circle.  Astrid stated he could stick around like he was a little puppy we found in a storm drain.  Alas, I ended up the one alone…” 

The dancer turned her head to the side enough to look up at the man.  Evie nearly slugged the sympathetic grimace off his face.  That was why she never wanted him to know truly.  Of all the people she wanted to feel bad for her was that fucking man.  “I couldn’t find it in myself be mad at them.  Since then, they have been there for me when I have needed them the most.  For almost ten years, they have been trying to for a kid.  They would be wonderful parents.  I even offered to carry that beautiful child for them, knowing I could never have my own under the old laws, but the red lyrium poisoning ruined that possibility.”

“That’s really nice of you.”  Cullen commented.  His hand danced in his pocket like he struggled not to touch her.  “You’re very understanding and selfless.”

“Yup, good ole nice and understanding Evie.”  The musician sighed before lifting her head.  Her dull gaze stared at the mirrored man behind her.  “I know you set up that gathering.”

The Fereldan blond lowered his head, shifting between his feet.  “I had a feeling this performance would be difficult for you.  I was already working closely with Alistair on security and wondered if they would like to see you.  I hoped it helped alleviate some of your stress.”

Evie’s heart thumped in her chest.  She bit her lip.  He did not need to go through all that trouble, only tell them both they lived in a fantasy and that she could kiss him without consequences.  Nope, real life sucked worse that Dorian’s ex-boyfriends. 

In all honesty, the gathering did not help, only made the pain lingering deep in her soul fester and sting more.  It was nothing about Astrid and Alistair being together, more that both people suggested something should happen between Cullen and her.  In his drunken state, Alistair whispered in her ear that she should kiss Cullen and let everything run its course.  It was hilarious coming from a man Rian punched so hard in the nose back in the day that Alistair was bruised for two months.  All the templar recruit had done was look at her butt a second too long.  Jeeze, Rian _was_ going to make it she would die an old maid at this rate.

The Theirins were not the first to suggest the possibilities of course.  Dorian joked about the musician and the commander’s attraction, yes, but it was like her distant cousin already knew that nothing would come around.  Cullen was honor bound, while Evie fantastically screwed up her romances.  Astrid wanted her loved ones to be happy and healthy.  Alistair just had a caring heart who always looked out for everyone.  It made sense they would want their friends in a loving relationship together.  However, it could never happen.  It was difficult enough to be beside Cullen with his commander attitude and harsh distance.  Hearing others push it just made it more unbearable.

A timid knock at her dressing room door gave Evie the way out of not responding.  Cullen’s officer persona snapped into place like a dog alerted to a bell.  He slowly walked over and opened.  He was promptly knocked aside by a small elven woman with short black hair.

“Evie, we arrived.  I mean, I guess you already know if that means I am here.  So, hi?” 

Evie jumped from her seat and lunged into the elven woman’s arms, ignoring the grimace across Cullen’s face.  “Merrill!  Thank the Maker’s arse your plane arrived.  Never again take the last flight out of Navarra.  I will send the family private jet.  _Anything_ just don’t you all scare me shitless again!”

The Dalish First waved her hands out in front of her.  “It’s my fault.  I thought I had set the GPS to the airport, but I put it to my house in Kirkwall, which was very far away of course.  I just kept driving until Fenris called and asked where I was.  You should have heard Varric laughing over the phone during the flight.  He kept saying, ‘Daisy, I am just going to give you a ball of yarn next time.  It will be more effective.’  So, sorry!”

Evie waved, stepping out of her dressing room towards the backstage.  Cullen growled and quickly followed behind.  Evie ignored the fact she was only in a robe and flip flops, but she had to check if her whole musical crew was there.  Merrill followed behind, apologizing again and again for the mix up.  Surana’s nails scratched and slid along the backstage’s oiled wooden floor trying to keep up with the running dancer and the stomping commander.  Evie could sworn she heard the man grumble about her lack of clothing like he walked in on her naked.

If only.

“Better late than never, right?”  Lyna Mahariel laughed, shrugging while her viola case sat beside her.

“Although, I do enjoy making an entrance myself…”  Zevran cooed, kissing the panicked Evie on the cheek.  “Mi amor, you look as though you have lived a thousand lives.  Please, let me take care of you properly, no?”

Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  “Five seconds, Zev.  That’s a new record.  Usually you wait until you pull out your violin before proposing sex.”

“Eve, what is…” Cullen mumbled, pointing at the four gathered people around her backstage.  Surana growled a little to state her own annoyance.

Zevran’s eyes perked and danced up to the bodyguard.  “Mi amor, you _are_ getting pampered then.  We have enough time for this handsome man to take you again before the show.”

Lyna slapped her hand over Zevran’s mouth, while reaching out with her left hand to Cullen.  “Lyna Mahariel, Violist.  This is Zevran Arainai, First Violinist, who always thirsts for some secret sexy rendezvous.”  The Dalish elf bounced her hand away revealing Zevran’s tongue out from where he tickled her palm.  “Damn it, Zevran.  _No!_ ”

Cullen shook her unmolested hand with a weird tense brow.  “Commander Cullen Rutherford, Miss Trevelyan’s new bodyguard.  I saw your name on the VIP list, but you were missing from last night’s rehearsal.  Is everything okay?”

Evie waved her hand at the gathered group.  “You remember hearing Vivienne cussing in Orlesian when the SUV drove back to the hotel?  The Four Elves and a Man missed their flight in Navarra.”  Cullen’s brow continued to wrinkle, not following her explanation.  Evie groaned.  “The Four Elves and a Man are my accompanying quartet.  They compose their own music and tour throughout Thedas.  They just finished their most recent tour in Navarra.  They promised me they would be here for the charity concert, but I guess Merrill got lost heading to the airport.”

A large, tall man came up behind Merrill and kissed her cheek.  A cloth wrapped bass laid against his chest.  “That is the last time I let her program the GPS.”  His eyes flick to the bodyguard, then to Evie.

Cullen tilted his head a little as he studied the tall bassist.  “That’s Carver Hawke, Merrill’s husband and the best bassist this side of the Waking Sea.”

“Note she left out the part that you’re Veronica’s brother, Carver.” Lyna huffed, crossing her arms over his chest.

“That’s how I know you.” Cullen replied, mouthing ah-ha.  The bassist grumbled and walked away, his Dalish wife following behind to calm him down.

“Don’t mind him, Mr. Rutherford.” Lyna exhaled, waving her hand at the Hawkes direction.  “Most people only know him after mentioning his sister, and I do not mean Bethany.  By the way, she is with the tuner on the grand piano.  She is so happy she can play with us again.  Ever since she had that last surgery and missed the last tour, she has been antsy to get back into the swing of everything.  But between Fenris and Carver, I don’t know how Veronica and Bethany handle such broody men.”

Evie laughed.  “If V-Hawke wanted less broody men in her life, she shouldn’t have not married one.”  The performer looked around.  “Where is the fine Tevinter cellist anyway?”

“He broke all four strings getting into the cab.” Zevran smirked smugly.  “He is trying to replace them and put the bridge back in place.  Do not worry, mi amor.  We will be ready.”

Evie nodded, trying to hide her anxiety.  “Any questions about the music order or compositions?”

Lyna tilted her head a little, her light blue eyes studying the ex-templar beside the dancer.  “Only how wonderful your newest piece is.  We played it over a few times.  It is filled with such passion.”

“A sense of longing and rebuilding, truly.”  Zevran added, his eyes flicking to the commander before meaning Evie’s gaze again.  “You will have the world in your hands during the encore.  Will you be gracing us with your beautiful angelic voice?”

Evie tensed.  She had not told Vivienne her plan for the new piece.  “No, not tonight.  I want the audience to get just a taste.  The whole ensemble will be put together later.”

“Oh!  The Phoenix has some new feathers waiting under her wings?”  Lyna lilted and bounced on her small feet.  Oh yeah, Evie forgot Lyna was as bad as Alistair with puns.

“An idea.” Evie glanced up to her bodyguard, who kept his persona in place during the conversation.  “Something someone suggested to me that might make the wait worth it.”  Out of the corner of her eye, Evie witnessed a small smug grin grace Cullen’s soft lips quickly.

“Then let’s not dally!” Lyna clapped and hurried to retrieve her instrument.  “Only two hours until show time, and we need to dress.  Evie, can you tell Merrill and Carver we are going to makeup?”

Evie nodded.  “Sure.  Commander, I know it isn’t in your job description, but can you retrieve my coffee from my dressing room?  Please?  My head is horrible, and I need to get my fennec costume from dressing.” 

Cullen rolled his amber eyes, exhaling hard.  “Fine.  Surana, stay with her.”

Evie pouted, crossing her arms over her robed chest.  “I am perfectly fine to wander around here without a guard.  You and the Chargers have this placed locked down like an ancient elven castle.  No one is going to get close to the amphitheater without your expressed permission.”

The commander threw her a look over his shoulder as he plopped away.  “Just like your ability to drink tequila?”  Before Evie could respond with a smart remark, the Fereldan was out of earshot.

“Oh, the chemistry rolling off the two of you is erotic and tantalizing…” Zevran purred at the musician.

Evie shoved him and stomped towards to where Merrill and Carver went.  “Shove it, flirt!”

Weaving through the backstage halls, Evie shoved down her friend’s observations.  She had little time to dally.  She needed to finish her hair and get into her costume.  Luckily, the quartet’s room was right by the costume closet.  Since Fesill was not there to assist her like other performances, she need to gather her own items.  She did not trust anyone else with the task.  The charity concert already had its share of setbacks, even though the quartet had arrived on time.  Evie could at least make sure she was in the right state, despite being so hungover that a weeklong sleep was not enough to recover.

“…Oh!  That’s who that was.  I thought he looked familiar.” Merrill’s squeaky voice echoed from their meeting room down the next hallway.

“You sure?  The knight-commander is here?”  Evie knew that voice anywhere.  It was deep like Rian’s, but had that rasp from his years of pain and torture in Tevinter.  Fenris sounded as broody as Lyna suggested from the cab mishap.

“Oh yeah.  I can’t believe Evie forgave that lurch for what he did.”  Carver huffed, slinging stuff around like an animal.  Zippers, bows, and bits of resin flung against the stone walls.  “He left her to die for crying out loud.”

“There must be a misunderstanding…The Inquisitor would never have allowed such a precarious situation.”  Bethany suggested, always the wonderful voice of reason and happiness.  However, even her gentleness was shaken by the conversation.

“Well, that’s what happens when she doesn’t tell her brother the Lion broke her heart.”  Fenris retorted right as Evie reached the open door.

The Lion.

Evie froze.  All color blanched from her face despite for the layers of stage makeup making her look like a fox.  On que, that deep stab wound from the red lyrium ached and caused her shoulder to spasm.  Turning into the door’s light, she calmly questioned, “What…?”

Merrill, Carver, Bethany, and Fenris all looked up from their position around the dressing room at the musician.  Merrill covered her mouth to hide her squeak.  Fenris lowered his hands from the pins at the cello’s scroll.  He must have been tuning the instrument with the new strings in place.  Bethany stopped her pacing, cupping her hands like she was holding a fragile dove.  Carver was bent over a suitcase, grabbing a dress shirt to wear under his gear.  He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“How the fuck is he your bodyguard, Evie?”  The male Hawke bombed with his bass voice.  “After all that sonofabitch did, especially to you!”

Evie shook her head, wondering if she missed something important.  “You’re talking about the commander, right?  Commander Cullen Rutherford is the leader of the Inquisition’s Security and Military Division.  He works for Rian.  Rian placed him as my new bodyguard until after the Orlesian delegation in a few months.  People are trying to kill me, so Rian asked his best friend to oversee all my concerts and outings.”

Fenris groaned, smacking his head against the cello’s neck.  His unique white tattoos down his face and neck almost magically brightened in his disgust.  “This is why Hawke told you to tell Rian what happened, not hide the whole fiasco.  What a bloody nightmare…Wait until I tell her about this.  She is going to lose her mind.  Varric should have known better too!”

Bethany tapped the Tevinter elf on the head.  “Varric and Hawke were just being friends, and looking out for everyone.  Although, Hawke was put in a horrible place between Knight-Commander Trevelyan and Knight-Commander Rutherford the whole time they worked to rebuild Kirkwall.”

“What in Maker damn nation are you all talking about!?”  Evie hollered, stomping into the room.  She flapped her arms like a flightless bird, more to release the pain and hurt rising up inside her soul from a time in her life she wanted to stay buried and forgotten.  “Yes, Cullen was the knight-commander, but I never met him while I was in Kirkwall.  There was no knight-commander then.  Meredith was dead, and the whole Order was fucked.  That’s why Rian and the Ostwick templars were sent to assist the city-state.”

Merrill lowered her hands from her mouth, her green eyes widen.  “She doesn’t know or remember…”  Bethany quickly took a seat, her black flowing dress draped perfectly around her hour-glass figure.  She just stared into nothing.

Carver and Fenris traded looks before staring at Evie like someone died and forgot to tell her.  “Oh shit…” Carver muttered.  “Evie, umm…Had Varric or Hawke ever told you _who_ you met in Kirkwall?”

Evie started shaking.  Her mind searched back to that time six years ago.  The walls around her heart crumbled, exposing old wounds and abandonment.  She squeezed her teary bright green eyes shut, losing the battle against the dark abyss that have replaced one of the happiest moments of her life.  With barely a whisper, she whimpered, “I told them I-I didn’t want t-to know.  I-it didn’t matter.  N-never again.  Never allowing myself to _ever_ think about that Void again!”

Fenris huffed and rolled his eyes.  Carver threw his shirt across the room, grunting he wished he had something to bust up that was not his bass.  Bethany wanted to calm her twin brother, but could not bring herself to stand or move.  Merrill stepped forward, her hand outreaching to Evie like the musician was about to fall over.  “Codename Lion…The commander…Cullen…He’s _him_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few cameos for you all. :) And yes, in this universe, both Hawke twins survived! THey are too awesome to allow one dead here.
> 
> Also, have Evie and Cullen met before?! Apparently!
> 
> Also, if you amazing people can do me a favor? Can you fill out this [survey](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/NZK9RQC), I would deeply appreciate it. I am under a great deal of stress lately and I am trying to figure out how to spend my writing time. Thanks!


	14. Encore (Cullen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra chapter for my happy readers. If you all are good, you'll get another tomorrow too. :)!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Elastic Heart" by DSharp (Originally by Sia)
> 
> Part 2 of 3 of Evie's Charity Concert
> 
> I do not own any music represented as Evie's pieces. When I began planning this fan fiction, I envisioned Evie's singing voice like Sia's. I discovered Sia much later than regular radio and fell in love with the artist. Many pieces I state are Evie's are actually Sia or violin compositions based on Sia's songs. Just covering my butt for copyright and what have you. 
> 
> I do have some rough Spotify playlists representing Evie's first two albums, but I am not exactly happy with them yet. I will notify you all when they are complete, along with her third album occurring throughout the story. 
> 
> Also, if you have any recommended violin compositions based on regular radio music, let me know. They fuel me while I am writing this novel.

Nugtube barely displayed the talent, the magnificence displayed for all to see.  When Josephine admitted she took every opportunity to see a performance, he scoffed at the praises and awe.  Cullen was not even at good angle to watch the show from the stage’s west wing, and his mouth gapped at what he saw. 

The bodyguard knew there were other people present on stage with her, but all the commander saw was Evie pouring her heart and soul into her violin, voice, and dance.  Her quartet and pianist had a role as well as her back up dancers, but Evie was left alone to do what she wished.  She responded to the outside stimulus with an expressive face and quick movements.  If someone moved around her not planned, Evie altered her dance and solos weave the mistake into the show like a snag in an expensive handmade quilt made by the best artisans.  Were they mistakes?  Cullen was not sure because it was so fluid and natural, essentially her.

Evie really was a little fennec about pounce and play on the amphitheater’s stage.  No longer dressed in a robe and flip flops, the dancer wore a sparkling layered costume.  The main spandex coat had a sheer back where designs of fur, glitter, and makeup graced her spine.  The coat shifted into two coat tails that expanded into lace, taffeta, and other fine fabric that waved and fluttered around the dancer as leaped and kicked.  In between the coat tails was fluffy expansive faux tail that was wired to always stand straight from her lower spine and hip.  The coat’s arm were tight around Evie’s arms so they would not tangle around her instruments.  Under the coat was a tight turtleneck spandex colored grey, red, and white like the animal’s stomach, extending to her tight spandex pants.  With each click and movement, her knee high tight leather boots pointed and reacted to the dancer’s movements.  Evie was truly a sight to behold. 

The commander forgave her _almost_ as soon as she strummed her first note along her electric violin.  Evie never returned to her dressing room like she said she would.  She was nowhere to be found until right before the show began.  Even her hairstylist commented she needed to fix a few things before the musician began.  By the time Cullen locked eyes on the dancer, she was about to enter the stage in full costume.  Both her wooden five-string and electric violins were prepared for when she traded out the instruments.  Alas, Cullen was on the other side and could not rush to her wing before she emerged on stage and under the bright lights.

Of course, the commander searched for her between the time he left her side and Evie began the concert, but the Chargers stated they had eyes on her everywhere.  Yet, _he_ never saw her to confirm she was alive and well.  The panic he felt two weeks ago when Hugh called his cellphone and announced they lost Evie burned beneath his sweaty skin.  He felt something was wrong.  Evie had been beside him everywhere since they left Haven on the private jet.  She kept her word to stay nearby so that he would shield her.  Why then did it feel like the singer wanted nothing to do with him?

Surana panted and whined when she finally caught up with her master.  The war hound looked up at him with tired eyes, but also with a gaze of confusion and hurt.  Her coat was wet like something held her close and refused to let go.  Was it Evie?  Did something happen that harmed Evie without Cullen’s knowledge?  It was one of the few times the ex-templar wished his mabari could speak.

Cullen heard over the earpiece radio before the concert Evie had shifted around the music.  She kept her new encore piece, but the other concert order changed.  The commander knew the list only to prepare for potential threats.  He learned online Evie told tales through her concerts with the play lists.  They might be the same songs from her previous albums, but combined with her dance and costumes, they spoke differently like they all new and worth returning for each and every performance.  Cullen even made a playlist to listen to the original order, curious about tonight’s portrayed story. 

The same pieces could be interpreted multiple ways by Evie’s tempos and leaps.  Her personification of a fennec that night combined with the new play list demonstrated a lost and alone animal running through the forest, only to stop and wait when she felt safest.  Her vocal were strong and filled with emotion that made what she recorded before sound like she was tranquil and deaf.  There was no mistaking Evie pined and cried a great sorrow, unknown to him until she danced and played for her audience.

Evie’s quartet shifted the tempo and play style with her like an unspoken word passed between them.  Even Bethany Hawke’s piano responded to the shifts when she was a part of the pieces.   That city elf, Zevran, watched the soloist closely, knowing when Evie wanted to extend a piece a few bars or rest between breaks.  His eyes locked on her hips and arms, causing Cullen to grit his teeth in disgust.  The elf leered at her like a predator that she was escaping as a fennec.  Cullen told himself mentally several times he had no claim over the musician, but he could stand the sexualization that people demonstrated towards Evie.  He was supposed to shield her from such brashness.

Cullen equated his jealousy and sullenness to meeting the Kirkwall people again after a few years, just in a new but still stressful environment.  Of all the people Evie shared her music talents with, it was Fenris, Carver, Bethany, and Merrill.  Those four ran around Kirkwall for years fighting the underground thugs and convicts like vigilantes.  Veronica Hawke led them with her Walter PP-K and butterfly knife.  She slashed and brought criminals into the local Grey Wardens, Police Captain Aveline, or the templars so justice could be served.  Meredith told her time and time again not to play hero.  Veronica would just laughed, flipped off his commander, and yelled she would stop when the knight-commander did her damn job.

The ex-templar had no idea any of those goons knew how to play an instrument, let alone an established world-renowned concert quartet that accompanied a famous violinist and vocalist.  It made sense that Varric encouraged Evie to play in Kirkwall if his friends also knew music and dance.  When he saw the names on the VIP list, Cullen’s mind never placed the people, more if they were a potential threat to his charge.

Maybe Cullen’s trepidation stemmed from Evie potentially discovering his past.  She looked at Cullen with happy and calm eyes, not disgust and hate like Veronica Hawke.  The commander could just explain his actions back then while he was a templar knight-captain, but could barely tell his therapist or his best friend.  What would Evie think of him if she learned he abused her gene-mutated kind like they were unworthy to live?  How would she reply if she heard he once believed all mages were just weapons to be used and dumped or that he enjoyed to make them tranquil to feed his fear that one less mage could harm him or the general public? 

No, it would kill Cullen to see those beautiful bright green eyes glare and those pink plump lips spit at his feet.  He mentally remarked before Rian should keep his dear sister away from Cullen’s taint.  Out of anyone in Thedas, Cullen Rutherford did not deserve to be in her presence.  He will give his wreckful life for hers easily without a second thought.  However, Cullen prayed Evie would never think herself below him.  He will forever atone for his actions.  She was truly the Herald of Andraste performing for all these people.  She stood on a tall column needing to be worshipped and loved.  Cullen should be buried under mountains of dirt, burned alive, or something far worse for all his misdeeds.

The last two days had been more difficult that the commander thought.  As Cullen watched her move into her last piece before the encore, he reflected back on being so close to her, yet could not touch her.  He just spent the last half hour mentally stating he will never deserve her, but he could not help the emotions lingering under the surface.  The man could not stop thinking about her lips against his in the garage and how he felt he was _home_ like he had been searching for her personally, but that made no sense whatsoever.  He could not deny it felt familiar and so relieving.

Any chance he could, the commander watched Evie during the gathering last night.  He could have stopped her from drinking so much easily with a word, but she was so happy and giddy spending time with her friends.  Alistair told him Astrid and she had dated in college, but his friend neglected to say how their loving relationship left Evie the dumped third wheel.  Both politicians ignored how much it pained the musician that she wanted to help them be parents, but the red lyrium stole that possibility, and most likely her own opportunity to have children.  Evie’s confession in the dressing room was not shocking, more demonstrating how alone she truly was.  She was selfless, doing everything for everyone else, but never allowing herself anything.

That’s why Cullen could not quench those feelings lingering under his lyrium-deprived skin.  That morning in her loft’s garage, Evie reached out for something _she_ desired, and it matched Cullen’s deep urges.  She was something he desired completely, more than lyrium.  Just that night before, he was reconsidering his limitation since retiring from the Order.  He craved her like a delectable drug more powerful and tantalizing than even red lyrium.  Yet, she was not a poison.  Evie was someone trapped in the world by a faux-magical mutation, nobility, fame, and education.  She wanted him, and for the life of him, Cullen did not know why.

Stay professional.

Cullen did not want this to be a job, a duty.  If he could change the circumstances, he would give her anything and everything she wanted from him.  She deserved to be happy at least with one thing in her life.  She earned the chance at happiness in that caged world.  Cullen wanted to save her from that cage, not just the one the world placed around her, but the one she trapped herself in.  The musician’s tale that night was of a woman trapped in herself, fearful and lost with no one who could help. 

Evie reminded the Fereldan bodyguard of an old proverb he heard as a child.  A young little boy orphan slowly gave away his clothing, limbs, and body to people and animals he met along his walk in the woods.  They were selfish people, who never gave the boy anything in return laughing at his gullibility.  He came upon the last character in the story, who asked for his eyes out of his head, the only last part of him that still existed.  The animal offered him a note in exchange.  The boy had never received a gift, so he cried happily as the animal ran away with his eyes.  The note, which the boy could not see or read because of his blindness, read “ _Fool.” **[1]**_

The commander awoke from his reflection to the sound of deafening applause.  Evie stood in the middle of the stage, waving to her quartet, accompanying piano, and back up dancers.  She never referenced herself.  She never acknowledges the whistles and clapping was for her.  She displayed to the entire world her heart and soul through dance, music, and her voice, but never believed she deserved their praise.  The fennec told her tale, pivoted, and went to the stage east. 

According to the original plan, Evie would allow the audience a few minutes while rehydrating with water and other items before her final encore piece.  The dancers left the stage on Cullen’s side, as the quartet acted like they were packing up their music and belongings.  A part of Cullen felt giddy about what might occur next.  He wanted to know what Evie placed her heart and soul into the last few weeks since he left her side as a potential friend and lover.

“Chargers in place, Boss.” Iron Bull radioed from throughout the amphitheater.  “She will change and go to the VIP charity event across town within the next hour.”

Maker, damn that Vivienne.  She was not even giving Evie a time to relax.  Cullen touched a button on his tie.  “Copy.  Keep your eyes and ears peeled.  Just because the concert is almost over does not mean we can relax.  What is the status on transportation?”

Philliam’s Free Marcher lilt echoed through the communication, stationed at the hotel.  “Convoy prepared and waiting on your mark.”

“Understood, Nightblade.”  The commander replied.  “Krem, be ready to assist me as soon as Phoenix changes in her dressing room to move and meet convoy.”

“Copy, Boss.”  Krem echoed through the mic.  “But, when we get back to Haven, I’m buying that woman a drink.  I haven’t had this fun on a detail ever.”

Iron Bull’s roaring laugh scratched through the mic.  “Be mindful what you’re wearing.  Phoenix apparently ruined the Boss’ favorite suit last night.’

Cullen smirked and shook his head.  He never imagined someone so small as Evie could project puke across a hallway like she did stumbling back to her executive suite.  “Surana is still quite annoyed too.”  The mabari at his feet growled and grumbled, sitting down by Cullen’s feet.

The commander watched from his designated spot as the audience began chanting their love and appreciation for Evie.  “Herald!” and “Phoenix!” echoed throughout Fort Drakon’s plaza as tens of thousands of people waited for their favorite musician to grace them with a surprising encore.  They thirsted for new music from their declared Herald of Andraste.

Carver stood and just stared at the chanting crowd.  He kept waving at them to stop.  He shrugged and placed his hand by his ear like he could not understand what they were saying.  The act caused the thousands of fans to holler, “We want our Herald!”  He acted like he did not know what they were talking about.  It was actually quite humorous, especially from the big broody man.  He glanced at his sister and quartet members for help.

Zevran just pointed to the male Hawke’s bass like he was an idiot.  Carver mouthed he now understood, slowly meandering to his bass lying on its side.  He looked at it, then the crowd with a scowl.  The audience went wild, screaming “yes” and “please play.”  The male Hawke waved to his sister, mouthing to her grand piano on the other side of the stage.

Bethany joined the unspoken act like she was too embarrassed to play.  Lyna jumped from her viola seat, directing the pianist back to the black piano.  Lyna tapped the keys a few times.  Bethany looked at her, then the crowd before sitting down and preparing for the next piece with her brother.

Merrill’s second violin squeaked as she stared at the music.  She kept playing weird notes, waving her hand at Zevran to try comprehend the piece.  Lyna sighed with dramatic arms and shoulders, and stomped over to the elf’s stand.  Zevran and Merrill stared at the music before Lyna slapped Merrill in the head and turned the music sheet right side up.

By now, both the crowd and Cullen were chuckling and laughing happily at the performance.  The commander could tell this was a common gag by the quartet group to get the audience involved with the concert.  From their movements, they were filling time for Evie to rest before the encore.  However, as the instrumentalists calmed down, the audience started calling for the encore, too impatient to hear Evie again.

Carver waved for the people to settle down.  He nodded to his twin sister.  The bassist twirled his large stringed instrument in his hands before tapping its big body with his knuckles like a drum.  With his other hand, he plucked the bass line, setting the tone and tempo for the encore piece.

Bethany joined after a few bars, swaying with the beat.  Her chords rang through the open plaza.  They were a deep rich slow chords, rumbling like Carver’s plucking.  The audience quickly followed the twins by clapping in sync.  Carver abandoned his drumming to finger notes on the massive strings expanding the tall bass.

The commander did not even see the main attraction step out from the east wing, too focused on the tempo and chords.  It was not until the mass of auburn waves and tight clothing that he registered Evie strutted out onto the stage.  Her colorful hips accented with many flashing flags fabric waved with the beat and clapping.  She abandoned her fennec coat to reveal the detailed stage makeup covering her whole body.  Cullen could not tell where the body art ended and clothing began.  She could have been nude for all the see and he would not even know it.  The paint designs mimicked the Fereldan autumn leaves like a fennec rolled around in a stack of leaves before bouncing away.

The dancer lifted her violin to her shoulder, coyly looking at her audience.  She listened to them scream her name and call for the music.  Once satisfied, she brought her bow to the strings, strumming it with a long strike that whistled and called over the plaza.  The bow was dramatic and strong as Evie bounced and weaved in place as she played her solo.

The piece was just as Zevran and Lyna stated:  sorrow, longing, and reaching to rebuild.  Cullen could hear Evie’s voice in her violin solo, especially as she staccatoed the end of the main chorus.  She was telling the world what has happened lately.  How she held notes, she pulled you in a direction before she would shift again be pushed another way.  Somehow, Evie came back to the center with a softness of exhaustion, but peace and a moment of happiness settled over her.  Then, the directional pulls would begin again, tugging at the listener’s heart and soul.

As the performer began the second verse, Evie finally moved, detailing those deep emotions with her leaps and kicks.  She fell dramatically to the floor, arching her back just right to avoid injury.  She kept playing, her bright eyes closed so enraptured by the piece that she probably had no idea thousands watched in awe and clapped along with the beat.  She was consumed by the music swirling around her.  If Evie had been a magical person, Cullen would believe sparks, fires, and ash would twirl around like the fake leaves that laid across her skin and fluttered around her firm breasts. 

Cullen witnessed the piece’s mimicked tearing and pain.  The quartet and piano continued playing the chorus background, but Evie’s violin cried and whimpered with hard, fast strikes.  The violinist visibly curled up in a ball as she played, pouring her pain and sadness into her unplanned deviation.  The crowd ate it up, their cellphones filming the dance and music.  Other audience members were swaying and crying with the musician.  The people looked like they wanted to run up on stage and hug her.

Absolute curiosity fell over the bodyguard as Evie brought the new piece to a close.  There were _words_ to this song?!  Cullen wondered what the point was because it spoke for her.  She demonstrated the emotions clearly that words would only made the obvious too much.  Maybe it was different if it was spoken in her amazing mischievous voice.  She had stated the night before it made it real.  What had she meant by that?  Was the meaning that hurtful she did not want to believe in the reality?

Cullen’s charge stood in the middle of the stage, still as a statue.  Her head down, while bow and violin fell to her sides.  The audience was silent for nearly a half a minute before exploding in applause and screams.  They stomped their feet and hollered until their voices were raspy.  Their hands were red and stinging from clapping so much.  They cried tears of mirth at what they witnessed.  It was only then Evie gave a single slow bow, a small recognition that their calls were in response to her music.

In a slow pointed step, Evie twirled away from the roaring crowd towards him.  Her bow and violin hung from each hand beside her hips.  Her bright green were closed, using her balance and hearing to direct herself towards Cullen.  As the backstage’s curtains masked her from the stomping audience, Evie finally opened her bright green orbs at looked directly at Cullen.  Those beautiful rifts struck his heart like a sword for there were full of tears and despair.

“Eve…” Cullen whispered, involuntary offering his open arms and warm core.  He wanted to hold her, wipe away her tears, and kiss her head until she was smiling again.

Instead of accepting the comfort, Evie dropped her intense gaze to Cullen’s feet.  She shifted left.  With a wide step, she walked away.  Her actions spoke more than any words could, just like her encore piece.

Strictly professional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I don’t exactly remember where I read/saw this, but I am pretty sure it is an old Chinese or Japanese story. I’m still searching for it. My mind keeps reminding me of the anime and manga, "Fruit Basket" but that doesn't sound right.


	15. Rush (Cullen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Blood & Muscle" by Lissie
> 
> Part 3 of 3 of Evie's Charity Concert
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: VIOLENCE AND THREATS AT BEGINNING OF CHAPTER
> 
> Also, NSFW at the end.
> 
> Not my best written chapter, but still enjoy?

When did this happened?

He was thorough and made sure that everyone backstage was security checked.  All the entrances and exits were manned constantly.

How did someone get in here and _do this_?

Cullen followed the ghost of Evie back to her dressing room.  He had stood frozen after she stepped around him and walked away.  Her actions spoke volumes.  He could not comfort her after such an emotional display of her inner soul.  They must stay strictly professional.  They had agreed to never seek one another beyond a working relationship.  So, Evie must endure her social cage alone.  Yet, the commander could not even fulfill his professional duty to his charge, Miss Evelyn Trevelyan.  Cullen failed her that moment while looking at the scene before him.

Cullen Rutherford could not even properly protect her.

The assailant had entered the backstage area during the concert because Cullen stayed neared Evie’s dressing room waiting for her to return back from retrieving her costume.  He personally remembered locking the door before the Chargers informed him that she was entering the east wing of the stage.  The commander remembered tugging at the doorknob to check it was properly locked and sealed.

The dozens of flowers that fans, Alistair, and the Trevelyans sent to the performance were ripped apart and scattered across the large dressing room.  Rose blooms looked like they had be placed into a mortar and pestle and ground into goo.  The lily stems were bare and stepped into the rug with a steel toed foot.  The vases that had held the flowers had been thrown against the wall.  The shattered glass sparkled like sharp fireflies on the rug, vanity, and belongings.  Larger pieces were used to rip Evie’s clothing she had worn to the amphitheater and her unused backup costumes.  The curtains were ripped from the rails.  The leather couch was gutted.  Its stuffing littered the room.

The main focus of terror laid at her vanity.  The cold coffee Cullen had placed back on the table had been poured all over the chair cushion, staining the expensive fabric.  Makeup powder covered the walls and ceiling from being slung everywhere.  Foundation looked like someone shook up the bottles and flung it everywhere.  Most of all and what kept Evie’s shocked expression was the lipstick message written on the large broken vanity mirror:

            _Die, Bitch.  I hate you.  I will kill you and take your life as mine.  Die._

The crash of a breaking violin and bow directed his attention to the fennec standing in from of him.

“C-cul…len…”  The woman in front of him whimpered as the initial shock of the scene hit her.  Her hands were braced against the doorframe, the only thing keeping her from falling over.

The commander grabbed her, punching the mic on his tie.  He lifted the shaking woman into his arms, cradling her as the shaking intensified in his grasp.  She rolled into a ball, holding his suit jacket for dear life.

“Code red!  Phoenix taking flight!  Repeat!  The Phoenix must take flight!”  The commander called, quickly carrying his charge to the back of the amphitheater.  Suddenly, there were multiple calls and announcements across the ear piece as his orders were carried out.

“Roger!”  The Iron Bull replied via radio.  “Tiny in position, waiting for flight.”

“Copy, Lion.” Philliam’s voice cooed from his position.  “Flight is grounded, repeat Mother bird is grounded due to weather.  The Phoenix must land at my current position.  Repeat, must land in the nest!”

Cullen knew what that meant, hissing under his breath.  He wanted to get Evie out of Denerim, especially if her assailant was still in the same area.  Philliam must have found out pending weather barred the private jet flight, thus required Cullen and Evie to go to the hotel first.  There were on Plan B already.

“Griffons moving to secure area.”  Howe’s raspy voice called.  “Branches and fellow birds will be secured and moved in one minute.”

The Grey Wardens were in charge of the outside theater, specifically the plaza and the audience.  It had been agreed with Alistair if an emergency occurred, the wardens assisting will lockdown investigation areas until Cullen and his team could uncover what happened.  The warden-constable had prayed he would not need to police his friend’s concert, but it seemed like Alistair jinxed it.

“Lion to Griffons, main back branch attacked.  Lockdown backstage and request all security.”  Cullen ordered, his Fereldan accent nothing but threatening growls. 

The commander watched as the Chargers jumped into position.  They held back technicians, dancers, and other backstage personnel from entering the direct path back to the designated exit.  Surana quickly ran behind her master, barking like a rabid animal, making people jump back.

Skinner stood with her two Beretta pistols protecting the exit door while Grim stood like a human wall.  Once the commander with his charge were a few feet away, the tall big man grunted, kicked open the exit.  Cullen saw Krem protecting Iron Bull, who held the SUVs back door.

For how tightly Evie held his jacket, there was no way he was going to let her go, but could they both fit in the same time.  Cullen acted fast, sitting first and scooted into the backseat.  He used his legs to kick Evie and himself inside so Iron Bull could slam the car door close.  The shaking musician whimpered and continued to seizure in the commander’s lap.  Iron Bull jumped into the passenger seat, waving to Hemingway to drive.  The Trevelyan guard did not need to be told twice, smashing his foot on the gas and zooming out of the amphitheater’s back lot and down the alley.

A raspy motorcycle engine zoomed passed the floored SUV.  The rider was small with a siren blaring.  Cullen briefly saw his gun holster out the tilted window.  Knotts waved before blocking traffic on the main road for the vehicle to turn and race down the highway.  The motorcyclist did this for the next three lights, screeching to a halt every time a car attempting to skirt him before the SUV passed safely.

“Situation on the bird.” Cullen ordered, bringing his arms closer to Evie.  He could not focus on her yet.  He needed to make sure all avenues for her escape were as planned and executed.  However, the commander’s soul screamed and just wanted to tell her it would be okay, care for her in this frightening situation.

“A thunderstorm hit the airport, Commander.”  Hemingway informed from the driver’s seat.  His hands jerked the wheel as he swirled around traffic.  The vehicle was speeding about thirty over the speed limit towards the hotel.  “All flights are down until visibility clears.  The private jet is getting prepped, but Nightblade does not want the Pheonix vulnerable on the plane.  Trevelyan and warden security have the hotel on lockdown until conditions change.”

Iron Bull glanced over his shoulder, his index finger to his ear, listening to the radio feed.  “Theater is locked down, and scene is secure.  The other birds are being rerouted to safety just in case.  The Iron Lady is questioning about the VIP event.”

Cullen growled and gritted his teeth.  “There is absolutely no way she is going to that.  She must be taken out of Denerim immediately.  If that Orlesian bitch has a problem, she can take it up with me later!”  The Lion roared, suddenly feeling Evie gripping his jacket closer.

Surana tried to stay stable on the floor, but she kept nudging Evie.  The hound’s yellow gaze kept locked on her shaking hand.  The mabari wanted to huddle up beside them, but there was no room on the backseat.

Cullen winced, realizing the issue.  He quickly unwound himself around Evie, shaking his suit jacket off his shoulders and arms.  It did not become clear until then how little Evie wore.  It was primarily straps over transparent lace.  Where her skin showed, she was panted like a fox.  She was freezing and in shock.

The commander placed his jacket over her and pulled the ball of a woman closer to his core.  He finally felt comfortable enough to focus on her.  He shushed her and rocked the scared dancer.  He could not stop himself from kissing the top of her hair and forehead.  His lips lingered again her painted skin.  She was so cold, although she dripped with sweat.  Her makeup smeared across his white dress shirt and jacket.  He probably had some across his jaw and chin from kissing her head, but he did not care.

“Eve, please speak to me…”  The Fereldan whispered, trying to see in the wrapped ball.  He could barely make out her face.  She was so limber her thighs easily touched her chin and lips.  Cullen’s right hand laid under her knees.  She was so tightly wound together, her shin and thigh muscles cut off his arm circulation pressing against each other so tightly.  His other hand remained on her left shoulder, supporting her painted back and the suit jacket in place.

 The commander laid his forehead on the crown of Evie’s head, praying everything will be okay.  He prayed to the Maker that He will clear the weather and get the dancer to safety in Haven.  Cullen said words of blessing for the investigation to find the sonofabitch who destroyed the woman’s belongings and invaded her personal space.  The commander will find the bastard who threatened his charge, even if his life depended on it.  The Maker must make it up to this scared and wonderful person in his lap.

It was then the bodyguard heard the faintest voice whispering inside the cocoon.  The voice was shaky and rough, barely a murmur against her cupped hands.  The tune was familiar to Cullen, but he could not place it.  He had listened to his charge’s albums multiple times.  It was not one of Evie’s tunes.  Instead, the hymn brought back a childhood memory.  He could see himself wandering up the Chantry nave, gawking at the statue of Andraste holding the bowl of fire, signifying how she died, burned to death by the Imperium.

Involuntarily, the ex-templar joined singing the second verse, soft enough not to startle the bundled in his arms:

            _“The shepard’s lost_

_And his home is far_

_Keep to the stars_

_The dawn will come…”_

Cullen used to sing in the templar recruit choir while at the military academy, a baritone whose voice squeaked and coughed as his voice changed with age.  It had been decades since he uttered a note, but somehow he immediately harmonized with the shaking shocked woman in his arms.

            _“The night is long_

_And the path is dark_

_Look to the sky_

_For one day soon_

_The dawn will come.” **[1]**_

Cullen lifted his chin enough to look down at the woman in his lap.  Her shaking stopped.  Evie slowly uncoiled herself from the little ball she formed.  Blood rushed back to Cullen’s hand holding her legs close.  Slowly, the woman’s chin lifted, her mouth dry, and lips chapped.  Like a spell, he gazed upon those vibrant bright green orbs that hypnotized him every time.  That was when the tears trickled from the corners of her painted eyes.  They smeared brown, red, and black lines down her high cheekbones, along her jaw, and dripped onto his jacket.  Yet, she made no sound.  Her mouth gapped up at him, but no sound came out.

“Cullen, we’re here.” Iron Bull remarked, glancing back at the backseat.  The Qunari’s voice broke the spell, causing Evie to close her mouth and eyes.  She leaned into Cullen, cradling her nose against the crook of his neck.  Makeup transferred to his shirt collar.  The more she cried and nuzzled her face into his neck, the more her natural sun-kissed skin showed through.

Cullen nodded.  “I will take her to her room until we are ready to fly.  Understood?”

Iron Bull concurred, stepping out of the vehicle.  After a few steps, the back SUV door opened.  The commander nudged his face towards the door, signaling Surana to jump out first.  The mabari followed, whining a few times at Cullen’s charge.  Iron Bull offered his arms to pick up Evie, but the commander shook his head no.  There was no way he was letting anyone touch her.  He did not protect her at the concert.  He failed at his one professional duty.  Like the Void he was going to fail her now when she needed him the most.

After some grunting and moving, Cullen and his charge exited the SUV, noticing Hemingway brought them to the back of the hotel away from potential people seeing the scene.  Philliam stood at the backdoor with his security team.  He flashed his keycard over the card scan, acting as the commander’s hands as they entered the building, through the storage areas, towards the freight elevators.  Only Cullen, his important bundle in his arms, Surana, and Philliam entered the elevator to the executive suites.

The metal doors closed and all that could be heard was the cable whine pulling the elevator upwards.  Evie sniffled a little, but primarily stayed pressed against Cullen’s neck.  The commander’s amber eyes remained focused on the metal doors.  He knew if he even met Philliam’s stare, Cullen could not control his emotions well enough to fool the old man.  He was angry with himself and the world.  He wanted to holler and throw everything within his reach.

Cullen thought he had successfully made it when the elevator doors opened on Evie’s floor, but Philliam flung his arms out to catch the doors.  The old man stepped forward in a way to block his exit.  The commander had no choice but glare at Philliam.

The Trevelyan’s face was stolid and blank, but his grey eyes burned and swirled.  Cullen could tell the rage was not at him, but at the situation.  Yet, there was something that still stabbed him repeatedly.  Philliam told him before Cullen could make an assumption, “Give her what she needs.”  His velvet voice was direct and stern, sending chills downs Cullen’s spine.  Once he spoke, the Nightblade stepped aside and let he and his charge pass.

The Trevelyan man moved to unlock the suite door before returning to the elevator.  He disappeared quickly behind the closing automatic doors.  Cullen watched closely at the elevator doors, hearing the whine lowering the metal box away from the location.  In a few steps, he entered Evie’s suite.  With a tongue click, he ordered Surana to stay outside and guard the door.  The mabari did not question it, sitting still and waiting.

Lowering his arm holding Evie’s legs, Cullen slowly closed her hotel room door.  It was dark and almost bare sans her suitcase and some scattered items.  Losing his support, Evie slowly uncoiled herself from Cullen’s core, but still pressed her body against his seeking warmth.

" _Give her what she needs.”_

What did this woman need at the moment?

Comfort.  Safety.  Care.

How could Cullen provide her such things when he failed her at the theater?  How could care for her without breaching the set rules?  What type of comfort did this scared and shaken person need?

The nuzzled face in his neck shifted, pulling away enough to stand completely against him.  Cullen’s back laid against the suite door, supporting his and her weight in his arms.  In her dancing boots, Evie gained a few inches, her forehead resting nicely against his stubble chin.  As the commander predicted, her stage makeup was smeared and half removed from her lips, right cheek, and eyes.  Her gathered tears washed away the black cat eye around her eyes, while those fallen drops made perfect carving rivers down her cheeks.

She lifted her face, eyelids rising with the movement so those majestic bright green eyes could shine up at her commander.  Her left hand snaked up his dress shirt, painted like the rest of her, but with the costume sleeve attached at her middle finger.  Just one thumb touch against his jaw told Cullen what he needed to do to fulfill the three needs right then.  If he denied them, he truly failed Evie more than ever.

 _“…From now on…it’s strictly professional.”_ He remembered what his broken voice sounded like in that echoing garage.

" _I promise…Professionalism from this point forward.”_   Somehow, she had stated that horrific sentence with a calm demeanor. He knew it was her Trevelyan background to disguise her grief.

Once again, Evie’s quivering lips parted just enough.  No words left her mouth.  She simply waited, not pushing.   She asked silently even if it was only for this one moment.  She allowed him to make the decision, knowing he held himself in high honor and duty to the Inquisition, Rian, and himself.  Cullen placed limits on himself to avoid the forbidden and falling back into his old ways.

Maker, this woman was perfect for him.  She was worth everything, even his self-respect.  She asked for nothing.  Now, as tragedy fell on Evie after such a passionate and emotional performance, she just requested one thing:  him.

Cullen’s hungry lips were on hers in a blink, furiously moving over her mouth like the predator chasing her fennec personification.  His tongue entered her mouth, finding hers just like before.  She instantly replied with her own force and want, flicking off his suit jacket to reveal her painted body.  His hands were on her with the invitation.  He searched through the tight straps where she was bare for his touch to meet her majestic skin.

Strong searching hands followed down Evie’s hips as Cullen lifted her again.  Within a little nudge, her legs parted and opened for him.  His hands found a zipper at the base of her spine, pulling it down quickly.  The tight costume loosen, specifically the lower half.  The strange cloth adorned with fabric leaves, fur, and wire fell away.  Cullen’s fingers found another set of zippers around her boots.  Only leaving her lips for a few moments, Cullen kissed a trail down her body while taking the boots off with a few flicks and tossing them across the room.  Evie arched her back, pressing her groin into his face as he teased one kiss over clothed sex.

Evie ripped off her fennec ears and tugged at the braids in her hair.  Grabbing Cullen’s shoulders and arms, the dancer pulled her commander up again, invading his mouth with her long playful tongue.  Moments later, Evie pressed against him back enough from their passionate kissing enough to mumble, “Please tell me you are not into furries or something.”

Cullen chuckled, realizing her assumption.  He reached down and grabbed his forgotten suit jacket to help wipe away the stage makeup not already removed.  “Now you said that, this got really weird.  I don’t go for that kind of thing personally.”

“Good…”  Only a brief smile crossed her exposed lips.  She pressed her forehead against his, her hands cupping his jaw tightly.  “I just want to feel good right now.  I want to think this isn’t happening.  Let me not be _this_.”

The commander paused, forcing her eyes to fall to his lips.  “If this was anything, but reality, by the Maker, I would do it in a heartbeat for you, Eve.”

Her bright green eyes locked on his amber spheres.  “Make me soar.”

Cullen fell into her again, his whole templar body grinding her into the wall.  He reached for one bare leg and lifted it to his hip.  With her flexibility, it was not a problem.  One hand found her clothed breast, pinching the harden nipple through the fabric.  She gasped into his mouth before lunging her long tongue down his throat.  Cullen moaned in happiness. 

The man’s other free hand slowly crawled down the dancer’s side to a bare curvy hip.  She was relatively naked from the waist down with her tight costume pants gathered around her bare ankle.  His callused hand followed inside her hip until Evie mewled against his lips.  Her head fell backwards as his fingers slid between her folds, already slick with arousal.  With a flick of his index finger, his thumb grazed her pearl of nerves.  His Lady gasped and eyes rolled back right before she grinded her hip into his hand. 

Cullen massaged the pearl for a few moments, watching Evie’s wincing and awing face.  Where her makeup was wiped away, her sun-kissed skin glistened with new sweat and blush.  With her next shove, the bodyguard’s callused fingers followed her natural valleys, sliding nicely into her tight entrance.  She sighed, capturing his lips again with a new resolve.  She held his neck with one hand, while the other snaked into his tossed wavy hair.  Evie made sure to show him her appreciation and desires as he stoked her.  His thumb resumed his assault on her bundle of nerves, while pumping his index and ring fingers in and out of her, first at a slow pace.  He gauged his performance by how her bright green eyes rolled in her head or met his whiskey orbs.  The green was nearly gone, her pupils blown wide with lust and thanks.

That was when Cullen pumped faster and flicked his fingers inside her.  He felt her walls closing in around his digits.  She bit his scarred lip before kissing along his jaw.  She gnawed into his dress shirt, her forceful teeth causing Cullen to flinch.  His cock hardened, feeling her nips and bites up his neck and earlobe.  She returned to his shoulder as her release washed over her, clamping his fingers like a slick and warm clamp.

Evie screamed, not just from the orgasm, but everything that happen.  Those screeches were muffled by his muscles and shirt and represented everything rolling around inside her soul.  Her inner walls not only tightened around his fingers, but around her heart.  The caged battlements of life slammed over this beautiful person right then only relieved by the pleasure Cullen provided.  It was not enough.  He could do more for her, sending her soaring until her voice was hoarse saying his name over and over again.  Maker, he wanted to hear it like he needed air.

Three knocks rang beside them as Evie’s lethargic panting slowed.  She stiffened in his arms.  He slightly groaned as his soaked fingers slid out of her.  She slumped against the wall, slamming her head hard.  He should not do it, especially with someone just on the other side of the door.  Cullen could not help it, smirking as he nudged a slick digit against Evie’s nose.  Her eyes barely opened to watch him engorge himself on her juices.  Delicious.  No green could be seen as she whined.  He licked his index finger clean, then offered his middle finger to her.  She leaned towards him just enough to slowly lower her lips over the wet finger.  Then they kept going, causing Cullen to blink.  He could feel her throat relax.

She had no gag reflex as her mouth sucked his slick finger clean.  She signaled her completion with her twisting tongue.  Here Cullen thought he caught her off guard with the gesture, but she returned it and added a new layer.

His hard cock danced in his suit pants.

Maker, they were made for each other.

Three soft knocks again.

Cullen growled, flinging himself away from the woman standing half naked waiting for him to engore himself on her heavenly body.  She only stepped a little left as he turned the doorknob.  The commander glanced outside to see Surana still sitting and waiting and Iron Bull hanging his head.  He cleared his throat and grimaced.

“Airport reports we can move into position and take off on the hour.”  The Qunari reported.  “However, we have a situation with her agent.  She’s causing some problems down in the lobby.  She refuses to allow Phoenix to leave without her attending the VIP after party.”

“Bloody fucking cunt…” Cullen grumbled as his cut upper lip twitched.  “I’ll handle it personally.”  He growled.  “You stay out here.  Surana, come inside.  Give me a moment.”  The Qunari grunted his understanding as the mabari slipped inside.

Closing the door behind the war hound, Cullen turned to Evie.  She no longer stood in the suite door hallway.  He glanced around in a panic until he witnessed her come around the corner, wearing his suit jacket that stop just below her groin.  She was holding a hand towel.

“For the makeup…”  She cooed, tilted her head to the side.  “You look like you ate a clown.”

Cullen snatched it, cackling a little.  “Good thing Bull knows when to keep quiet.”

“Pfft, Dorian is proof of that.”  She sassed.  A small crack of a smile graced her lips.  “Good luck…and thank you.”

Sure he wiped his face, neck, and hands as clean as possible, Cullen nodded and handed back the towel.  “Anything for you, Milady.”  He slightly bowed to her before reaching for the doorknob.  “We’re leaving in a few minutes.  It gives you a chance to change.  Take only what is necessary.  The Chargers will collect the rest on their return trip.”

Evie hummed her response.  Cullen did not look back as he exited the suite.  He did not want to because then she would see his twisted ugliness.  It did not grace his face because of Vivienne’s demands, but because he enjoyed his lurching actions _too_ much.  Cullen was not done making her soar.  Just having a simple taste of what amazing woman offered opened a very dark door in his soul, one he locked and barred closed years ago.  That animal can never be set free.

Thus, that can never happen again.

 

* * *

 

Evie did not move from her position until she heard the elevator doors shut.  Her hand still was holding the towel he used to remove the evidence of their passion.  His scent surrounded her via his suit jacket.  Her skin burned where he had touched her, specifically between her legs.  Her orgasm nearly ran down her leg like the tears resuming down her cheeks.

It _is_ him.

Yes, it was true Evie needed an outlet for all the emotions rolling through her, but it was not caused by the attack on the dressing room.  No, these emotions rose before the concert.  Her performance spilled out some of it, her solos and dance more expressive than usual.  While performing her encore, a foolproof way to know for sure molded.  The musician hated she would use the man that way, but she had to be sure. There was only way she would know if the man she met before was actually Cullen.

And it was him.

Only one person could make her orgasm so easily.  Her past lovers struggled to find her reactive places and what position that made her float away.  Astrid and she learned over their time together.  Alistair was her first lover.  The poor man still blushes sometimes when their eyes meet.  That was simply two friends comforting one around during harsh times.  Still, their sex was a great deal of fumbling and uncertainty.

But, no one else was never instantaneous like that man who broke Evie’s heart.

His facial expressions were the same, especially with coy smirk he gave licking away her arousal.  He relished in her bits and nips, his cock hardening against her thigh.  Most of all, Evie finally knew why his kisses reminded her of a fine drink.

Spiced honey mead.

Like a zombie, she meandered to her suitcase.  There is one person who can have the answers for what happened so long ago.  Unzipping a few pockets, Evie found her emergency cellphone, a burner for the Trevelyan Family if they lost their main.  She turned it on, watching it boot up.  In the meantime, she pulled a tank top and yoga pants out of her suit case.  She decided against underwear, wanting to smell her release during the flight home.  She needed to smell it to build metal walls around where her walled castle had been destroyed just hours ago.

She flicked off his suit jacket, slinging it across the floor.  By then, the cellphone was on and had signal.  Evie shook off the top half of her costume, her body completely naked sans the areas where stage makeup lingered.  He wiped off most of it in their passionate actions.  Her thumb flicked through the contacts, seeing his name as one of five.  Only Trevelyans had these cellphones.

Evie lifted the smartphone to her ear, hearing the first two rings.

_“Hello?”_

“Ezzy…?”

_“Maker, Evie!  You know what you’re calling from?  What happened?!”_

The weeping flowed as she slumped to the floor.  Surana trotted up to her.  It was strange.  The mabari hated her for the last three weeks, but now she was Evie’s only companion.  During the hours before the concert, the hound sat with her in the costume closet as she bawled into her grey fur.  Her world crashed and burned horrifically right before she was about to entertain thousands.  Surana never growled, only gave a few whines and huffs.  Evie knew now why the hound had hated her.  Evie had _forgotten_ the little pup.

“Ezzy…”  Her voice turned raspy.  “Why didn’t you _tell_ me!?”

There was silence on the other end.

 _“I will tell you everything when you get home.”_ He took a heavy exhale before his voice turned stern and hate-filled.  _“I will tell you why I want to kill Cullen Stanton Rutherford with every bit of my Maker-damned soul.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I don’t own the rights to Bioware and EA’s “Dawn Will Come.”


	16. Runaway (Evie Flashback)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "On the Run" by Katie Garfield
> 
> Evie's Tune: "Roundtable Rival" by Lindsey Stirling  
> (I posted a new playlist called ["The Phoenix Trevelyan"](https://open.spotify.com/user/thejeeperswife/playlist/5L8HDsfKYIbMyi7k5BgoJN?si=P3B3wyLyQCu-TVn6b426uw) containing the pieces "Evie" performs as a musician and violinist throughout this story. I am not claiming the songs, just what she would "compose and perform" if this was a real world...maybe. Does that make sense?
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of rape, death, and destruction
> 
> Note: Long italicized sections are Evie talking to Esme between flashback scenes. That was the only way I figured to denote the difference.

Evie registered the front door bell and maybe tapping the visitor admittance on the far wall by the lift.  She did not really raise her head from her tequila bottle until Esme’s tall head gazed out from over top the warehouse lift’s wooden grate.  He lifted it, carrying a few bags into the loft.  Hopefully, it was more booze for her.  Yes, she had a full bar, but it was going to be a long night…possibly a few _days_ of drinking.  She planned to not move any time soon until she felt she could face the world again.  Evie not ever emerge from her loft cave if that was the case.

The musician’s baby brother sighed, seeing where she decided to start drinking.  Evie meant to sit down on the bed, not slide off and sit on the dais edge, but it worked.  It was better than the couch, which felt too much like a plane seat at the moment.  Esme pinched his nose before setting his bags on the island.  He shook off his coat, then felt a brush of autumn night air against his face.  He grimaced, noticing a few lakeside windows open nearby.   Evie lifted her clove and elfroot joint nestled between two right hand fingers to demonstrate she needed the fresh breeze.  Her brother just rolled his brown eyes and pursed his lips in frustration.

Evie mentally thanked herself through her alcohol hazy that at least she had showered and washed off the rest of her concert makeup before notifying him she had returned.  She actually did not start drinking until she got back in Haven.  The woman’s Haven bodyguard, Hugh, was at the private airport in the Hinterlands.  The _knight-commander_ told him to drive Evie back immediately and place a detail on her warehouse twenty-four seven.  Evie mentally thanked all of the different Thedoesian gods, creators, paragons, and the Qun to not be locked in a car with _him_ for an hour.  The two hour flight across the country had been long enough.  Luckily, everyone on the flight just assumed her daze was just from the attack and not the new oppressing reality.

On the drive back, Evie texted her baby brother back and forth, explaining what had happened at the concert and why she had been using the Trevelyan burner phone.  Rian was out of town on a business trip with Cassandra and Josephine, meaning it was unlikely he would bothered her in the next day or so.  She planned on not turning on her personal phone.  She left the work phone at the amphitheater, most likely trashed with the dressing room.  No one knew the significance of the phone she was using at the moment, so no one could tell Rian she was using the special Trevelyan lines.

It had only been dark for an hour when the concert concluded.  The sun set over the bay while Evie played, part of the venue’s appeal.  The entourage regained hours because of the time zones, so to Esme, it was only 19:00, while it felt like an entire different year to Evie.

19:37 Online Age to be exact.

“Per your request:  take-out Rivaini, two bottles of top shelf Antivan Tequila, and three bottles of honey mead.”  Esme lifted his gaze from the expensive bottle of mead in his hand.  “I’ve never seen you drink mead…”

Evie huffed, somehow not bursting into tears.  “It has a purpose…you know, now that I know who fucking Lion is.”

Esme clicked his tongue, placing several bottles on her liquor cabinet and one honey wine in the refrigerator.  “I have always wanted to talk to you about this, Evie…It is the secret I held tight for six years.  In that time, I did not think it was good to bring it up.  You moved on, Rian called that shitass fucktard his best friend, and I just watched and listened.  When Rian told me last month he was making Cullen your bodyguard, I counted down the seconds until you would make the connection.”

“You could have _told_ me, Esme!”  Evie spat, not appreciating her brother’s ‘I told you so’ attitude.

“If that was the case, why did you tell Hawke and Varric _not_ to say anything?  To _not_ tell you who you were sleeping with that whole damn weekend?!”  Esme snapped back, grabbing a cold beer bottle from a shopping bag.  He slung the other five beers into the fridge.  He slammed the door closed hard and whirled back around.  “Why did you tell me to not find out who the fucker was who left you to die in that room!?”

“You apparently did anyway!”  Evie hollered, barely tall enough sitting on the dais to see over the island.

“I didn’t actually…I found out just like I found you seizing and dying…”

Evie stilled.  Something clicked in her head.  There was a way he knew, but she wanted to hear it from him personally.  “How, Esme?”

He slung the bottle cap across the kitchen before walking towards her.  “I will tell you when you tell me what happened that weekend after Philliam spoke to you.  How you got poisoned, how you met him, and why you felt it was so important to never tell Rian.  I kept your secret for six years.  I helped you cover it all up, to make sure Rian did not do his own digging to why you almost died and who was responsible.  I have lived day and night with that _disgusting_ man right by me and turned the other cheek for you.  I kept the good relations knowing I could end everything with a few placed words.”  He waved his arms around in frustration and anger.  Esme’s face contorted with each question and action.  “I played dumb, _lied_ when and why I was in Kirkwall because you _asked me to!_   Now, that the cat is out of the bag, I can finally hear why I did all those things because you know the big secret.  If you want Rian or that _garbage_ not to find out, give me the common decency of telling me why I have done all of this!”

Evie rolled her head against the bedside, her wet frizzy hair puffed behind her.  She wrinkled her tight brow.  “Cullen does not know it was me.  How’s that?”

Esme took a long gulp of beer.  He waited a few moments before swallowing.  “I will tell you everything that happened after I found you almost dead…but only after you tell me what led to that moment.  I swear on the Maker’s Bride and John Cena, I will.  Please, Evelyn Tesni.  The guilt and strain of all of this feels like it’s almost at an end.  All the questions and assumptions gnawed at me since that moment.  Give me some peace, Sis.”

Evie hung her head, staring at the almost empty bottle of tequila.  “Everything?”

“Yes.”  Esme whispered, quickly walking over to her and sat down on the dais beside her.

“Where to begin…”  Evie whimpered, slightly burping a little.

“Well, how did you meet him?”

Evie’s ha loudly echoed throughout the dark loft.  “Which time…?”

Esme scrunched his nose, confused.  “Okay…How did you not get arrested by Kirkwall’s templars?  I mean, you ran away, Evie.  I just had graduated high school.  One moment, you texted something about how much you hated writing your dissertation, the next Mom was crying you were gone.  Left Ostwick, thus the Circle, with just a small bag of clothes and one of the old messenger motorcycles Dad collected…”  He thought for a moment.  “Well, until actually after this.  He sold all the motorcycles right after you came home to recover.”

Evie laughed, shaking her head.  “He always said he would regret letting Alistair teach me how to ride a motorcycle.”  She stared the tequila bottle.  “What did they tell you?  Like _why_ I even risked my life to leave.”

Esme took another swig.  “I knew it dealt with Great-Aunt Lucille, which is never good.  Father nearly killed that woman when the Kirkwall Chantry exploded.  Philliam reported two weeks later that you were alive, well, and that ‘everything had been taken care of.’  That’s how I fell into everything.  My hacking life really started by accessing Philliam’s computer, too curious and concerned about you.  It wasn’t difficult, especially for a man who assassinates people to protect us kids.  I think he wanted me to know or tested how far I would go for you—not the Trevelyans—you specifically.  I think even Philliam never expected what followed.”

Evie took a deep breath.  “You’re right.  It started with Great-Aunt Lucille…and why I did something when I was eighteen.”

 

* * *

 

**_Bloomingtide 19:37 Online_ **

 

_Father did not know until after I fled._

_Everyone in the Free Marches knew that Sebastian Vael had successfully regained his throne, but not at what expense.  People rumored the prince was friends with a specific group of people who help investigate what happened to his family and reclaim his princely title and Starkhaven parliamentary monarchy power.  What people don’t mention is that it was at a cost.  Sebastian needed support in the city-states, and Great-Aunt Lucille was more than willing to give it by funding his return and elevating him among the nobility.  However, you also know that she does not do such things without wishing something in return.  That price was for him to marry me._

_Mother and Father did not know.  If they had, they would have never allowed it.  Furthermore, prior to the Mage-Templar War, my ‘kind’ were barred from marrying, except under strict conditions where the mage was of a noble family who paid the appropriate “donations” to the Chantry—like in the millions.  The noble family had to demonstrate the mage would never have offspring.  Maker forbid us procreate.  Well, Sebastian Vael is a monk after many years being a playboy and drunk, thus never planned on having sex with his bride.  I guess he had enough sex prior to his celibacy to last him a few lifetimes.  He agreed to the proposal arranged by Lucille just as long as I was a virgin, pure as the Maker and His Bride._

_That was the problem.  I wasn’t.  I purposely made sure I was impure for such situations because the extended family always searched for a way to “make use” of me.  I find it funny that there is actually no real noticeable difference between a virgin and a non-virgin woman.  All those things you see on television or the exams they did on young maidens back in the day is not how the hymen works.  It sits around the vagina, not a plug like people make you believe.  If it was, then how does menstrual blood pass through?  Yes, some debated idiotic people could tell the differences to justify examining women for jobs and other opportunities, but virgins can tear it just by riding a bike.  Or it might stay intact throughout their sexual lives.  It is a form of control and submission, one I never wanted used against me. **[1]**  _

_On my eighteenth birthday, I asked Alistair to take my virginity and tear my hymen somehow—even tried by riding horses—just in case any person wanted to “examine me.”  Let’s just say he was a blubbering idiot when I proposed it, but he understood why.  He knew what the Trevelyans did to me throughout my life.  He had just graduated from the Grey Warden academy, coming out of the whole training the only virgin I think.  I always tell Astrid sorry for spoiling her husband.  She just responds that she should be the one apologizing because his sexual awkwardness and uncertainty was gone by the time I introduced them._

_The guise was that Alistair would be my Circle Prom date.  That was the only way people would even allow him near me and why I could have a twenty year old man inside the Circle.  Yes, I had passed my Harrowing, but you know Rian.  Rian would never allow anyone else but Alistair.  Our poor brother came down with food poisoning “somehow” a few days before the event, thus why he was not watching me like a hawk.  Still, Alistair ran for the hills afterwards we slept together, fearing Rian’s wrath._

_I found out about Lucille’s proposal while discussing my dissertation research with my senior professor.  The poor man asked if I was going to be able to continue my doctorate after I moved into Starkhaven’s Royal Residence, none the wiser it was a secret to even me.  I acted the part, stating thinks were not finalized.  I left the meeting and went to the estate.  Mother and Father were not home.  There was no time to ask them about the arrangement.  At the time, I did not know they had no idea what Lucille did.  All I knew was Sebastian Vael was a very religious and pure man, and he would expect his bride to be the same.  I gathered what clothing I could, any cash lying around the estate, took the most reliable motorcycle, and fled.  Fast._

_I purposefully chose Kirkwall.  The powder keg was about to blow there.  Everyone knew about Meredith and her insane practices.  Why would a runaway mage flee to the most dangerous city-state for mages?  I asked myself that constantly the month I lived there before the explosion._

 

Evie jumped on top of the table right as the beat hit hard.  She stomped across the rickety thing, making the old violin sing like it never did before.  A classical instrument was never to jam so well with a bass guitar and a techno beat, but she did it.  Bow horsehair sprayed from the frog with her hard grinding, while kicking and bending her body in all directions.

The bar was hopping, clapping, and cheering as the violinist twirled and leaped from table to chair.  She would flop down into an empty chair when the beat stopped before jumping on the seat and rocking it back and forth, demonstrating her balance while playing the string instrument.  Every so often, she would nod back to Carver to take a guitar bassist solo before he bounced back for her to go into another electric jig.

The Hanged Man had become Evie’s second home.  It was so filthy that cockroaches moved out because of the filthy conditions, smelt of old water-downed beer, and everything was somehow covered in semen.  Varric told not to ask too many questions.  The less she knew about its history, the better she could sleep better at night.  The musician already fought off lice and other creatures roaming her body in the bar’s back hotel rooms.  The advice was sound and heeded.

Ironically, the bar was a step _up_ compared with where had been laying her head.  When Evie arrived in town, she sold anything of worth except her father’s motorcycle.  The pown amount was not much, barely enough money to eat for a day or so.  Despite having banks accounts filled with wealth, everything she did was by cash to avoid a bank trail back to her parents, the bastards.  They arranged a marriage without even saying a single thing, which was quite peculiar.  They had always discussed such important life choices with her before.  Even when she was sent to the Circle, they explained what was happening and why.  They told her Rian would be there with her and make sure nothing horrible happen.  Well, it did anyways thanks to her nasty cousins.

No, Evie was only safe and free here by providing for herself.  However, she never imagined Kirkwall’s alienage and poverty-stricken projects to be so dreadful.  Yes, she was raised by an elite family, but she lived in Dust Town in Orzammar for months doing her Master’s thesis.  That place looked like the Grand Cathedral compared with Darktown.  If she had not successfully saved herself from that gang and found the pro-bono doctor who served the needy there, she would have not survived the first week.

What worked in the musician’s favor was that the pro-bono doctor was also a runaway mage from Fereldan named Dr. Adam Anders.  Somehow while examining her, he discovered her status as a mage.  Evie freaked when he stated it with a whisper.  She was prepared to clog the fucker over the head with a waste bin and run.  Instead, he offered her sanctuary.  He only asked for her first name.  That way if something happened, he could work with the Underground Mage Network to get her out of the city-state.  When she explained she fled _to_ Kirkwall, he thought she had hit her head riding the motorcycle.

No one knew Evie was a Trevelyan, only that she cannot go home.  It was enough for Anders.  Not so much for his friend, the _fucking_ Champion of Kirkwall!  Well, Veronica Hawke knew her name was Evie, but not that she was a Trevelyan.  No, Evelyn thought her research name would be safer, Evie Monroe.  After all, that was what was on her Circle record. 

Maker forbid the Free Marcher nobility or the Chantry discover a Trevelyan was born with the gene.  Most elite already knew, making sure that their pompous children never married into the family.  That made her life a living Void among her cousins.  They had beat her enough as a kid for ruining their perfect lives with her _stench._

The established techno beat slowed until Evie finished her solo and ended the piece.  She lifted her bow and violin over her head.  A roar of applause and whistling rang out throughout the establishment.  The sailors, drunks, and whatnot all called for more.  Evie just laughed and said she needed a few minutes to “rehydrate.”  She just waved to the open violin case on the bar if someone would like to make a cash donation.  Sovereigns clicked together inside the old case where the velvet looked like tweed and the leather outside had not been oiled in the last age.

Evie tucked the old fiddle under arm and waltzed up to the table in the back corner.  She flung herself into an empty chair beside Carver.  On que, a shot glass of clear liquor was placed in front of her.  The Hanged Man did not serve aged tequila, so Evie suffered with silver tequila.  She might as well drink battery acid.  It tasted about the same.

The violinist shifted the bow to her other hand while the instrument laid over her lap.  Evie lifted the shot to toast with her new friends.  “To once again, Hawke, for betting her family violin that I could not bring down the house.”

“Toast!”  The table of crazy goons called, draining their chosen liquors.

Veronica rolled her lilac contact eyes and drained her liter glass of ale.  Varric patted her on the back.  “It’s okay, Hawke.  I bet against her that she couldn’t do it playing ‘Mafaerth Went Down to Ferelden.’”

“That was your first mistake.”  Evie laughed, smacking her empty glass down on the sticky table.  “Any violinist learns that song just for such a bet.  Truly though, Veronica, I will give it back when I can leave here safely.”

The Champion rolled her eyes again.  “That’s _your_ first mistake.  There is not leaving Kirkwall safely.  In the last week alone, Meredith and her bastard templars have closed the bridges leading to the coast and the interstate.  Anders’ Underground is no more after that last raid.  The bay is turning red from all the lobotomies they are performing on the Gallow mages.  The last descent templar who could actually found a peaceful resolution died on the coast by his own mutineers.”

Evie pointed to Bethany, Anders, Merrill, and Hawke.  “How are all of us still walking around?  I’m surprised Meredith hasn’t chain gang you all in that prison.”

Fenris growled before he lifted the butt of his short-range rifle.  “I won’t let any of them near Hawke.  Between Carver’s shotgun and my gun arsenal, I would like to see them storm any residence…”  He pointed at Anders.  “Well, maybe his place.”  Anders just flipped off the elf.

“If Choir Boy had stuck around, he could have really covered our asses.” Varric remarked by the bar.  “Excellent sniper.”

Of all the people Evie could have met here, she found the lunatics who helped her arranged betrothal get his crown back.  Sebastian quickly left when he no more use for the filth, it seemed.  It was still a sour point with the group, specifically Bethany who actually liked the guy.  She could have him for all Evie cared.  The mage nurse who assisted Anders at the clinic was nobility and more likely a virgin.  Just perfect for the monk.

“My ‘diplomatic immunity’ only covers these lunatics, and even that is shortening by the day.  Meredith and her knight-captain puppy is looking for any legal city-state loophole to remove my status and lobotomize me.”  Hawke explained, her face twitching just thinking about it all.  “If Izzy had a working ship at the moment, I would had them all on it and sailing into the sunset.”

The Rivani pirate leaned forward, her breasts two sizes too big for the extra-small spaghetti strap tank top she was wearing, while her tight jeans barely clothed her behind.  “I had a ship.  I had ten to choose from.  You just told me not to steal it.  You’re not a pirate unless you steal it.”

Evie knew Isabela or at least her reputation.  Half of the Trevelyan fleet’s shipping metals and lyrium across the Waking Sea was either stolen or sank by the woman.  When she heard about the raids, Evie thought it was cool that a woman could take down the Trevelyans.  She was even flattered when she met Isabela, the captain propositioned her for a tumble.  If it was not for Anders asking if Evie had all her recent vaccines and was not allergic to sulfa drugs, the mage would have done it.  Now, Evie knew why Varric stated never to ask too many questions about the Hanged Man.  All lingering semen was from all the seamen sleeping with her.  They discovered Isabella was a friendly port.  If she ever went home, Evie would tell her father why half their captains had the crabs and antibiotic-resistant gonorrhea.

Varric flopped down beside Evie with a fresh tequila shot.  “Don’t listen to them, Monkey.  Bianca and I have the Hanged Man on lockdown…well, except for the templar patrol about two blocks away who heard there was a hot violinist with hips that don’t lie.”

Evie groaned, flinging her head back.  “Well, Anders, you have a roommate tonight.  There is one thing I cannot do, and that is fool a templar that I’m not a mage.”

“Just don’t act like one.” Merrill advised, lifting her head from Carver’s shoulder.  “That’s what I do.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Fenris mumbled from across the table.

“Sorry, Merrill.”  Evie began, getting up with the violin.  “As my lack of Wicked Grace winnings these last few weeks show, I am horrible liar.  My face and expressions are an open book.  It is better for me just to avoid them than tempt fate.  That wonderful sonofabitch is why I am even in the fucking mess I find myself in now.”

“If Kirkwall is your safe haven, Maker, you are in the shit, Monkey.” Varric commented, eyes wide with surprise.

Anders stood up too.  “I’ll walk back with you.  It’s about this time when the gangs start crawling out of the sewers.  They know Hawke is still drinking for another hour, so they try to rob whoever passes by.  Although, you have some moves if you survived that first attack, and I’m not talking about your dancing.”

Evie giggled, fishing out her tips and donations from the violin case.  She paid the bartender for her shots and shoved the rest of the cash into her large deep pockets in her khaki pants.  She patted her hip, making sure her bowie knives were easily assessable.  “Brothers.  One of them is so very protective that if he knew I was hanging out here, he would burn down Lowtown.  The other would be asking me why I didn’t bring him with me so that we could be heroes together.”  She laid down the violin inside the case and placed the bow in the lid.  She snapped the buckles in place before following the doctor towards the door.  A few patrons groaned and whined, seeing the musician leaving.  She waved that she would be back soon in the next day or so.  She always waited twenty-four hours before returning just in case the templars returned the next night.

Anders held the door for Evie.  They both walked out into the night and down a dark alley so they could sneak passed the patrols.  Hawke’s friend, Captain Aveline Vallen-Hendyr of the Kirkwall Police, let the anti-heroes know when the templars changed the routes to avoid conflict.  They walked in silence for a few blocks until they were into Darktown.  Templars only came there when there was a raid, which was becoming quite frequent since Evie arrived. 

Still, the knights never busted Anders’ clinic, knowing Hawke will kill them all if they did.  That did not mean Meredith did not want to.  If anything, the crazy bitch watched for an opportunity to take down the runaway doctor, but even his mage status protected him somehow.  Evie wondered if he belonged to a non-mage organization that shielded him from the templars when he was without Hawke’s protection.  The doctor was loved by the people in the projects, so they always kept his clinic safe and guarded.  Still, the poor and starving could not take on the Chantry military by themselves.  If anything, the growing conflict in the Gallows was going to trap those same unfortunate people in the bloodshed.  They would be the ones to suffer the most.

Maybe that was why Evie felt comfortable sleeping with Anders that first week she was there.  He made her feel safe and not alone in the chaos, comforting arms when her parents betrayed her trust.  Evie regretted it the next morning, seeing how he felt abandoned when she checked into a room at the Hanged Man.  Apparently, Evie was the second woman to use him for brief relief during the crazy war.  She heard from Varric later that Hawke had been his bed mate for a while after she and Fenris broke up.  Ander was in love with Hawke and probably used Evie that same nightcap as a replacement Veronica.  When Fenris got his head out of his ass and realized he was in love with Hawke, Veronica left Anders.  The pro-bono doctor just wanted someone to care about, but his revolutionary ideas for mages scared off anyone remotely interested.  Well, it scared off Evie at least. 

“Evie, I know I stated this before.  I cared little to why you ran away, but I cannot help but think it was not because of the Circle.”  Anders concluded about a block from his clinic.  “If anything, you do not seem to mind the Circle or the templars.”

Evie scrunched her nose.  “What gave you that idea?”

The doctor smiled gently.  His eyes were lyrium blue, peering into her soul.  “You never speak poorly of them.  Meredith, yes, but not all templars.”

Evie knew she had no blank innocent face.  Astrid tried to teach her while they were dating, but it never stuck.  The dancer prayed the darkness shielded her expressions.  “What if templars are as much prisoners as us?  What if they are forced to take lyrium constantly because they will die if they stop?  The same steroid they use to have a leg up over us who have the mutation also kills them.”

The musician could see Ander’s scowl even in the pitch blackness.  “They are nothing like us and to suggest anything to contrary is damning us mages more.  They are not ripped from their parents and sent to Chantry-run schools or never allow to marry.  Yes, most don’t choose to marry, but that is still a choice.  We have none.  No, they love beating us and stating we are maleficar, as if blood magic—or any magic for that matter—was real.  No, all their life choices are their own, and no one can be blamed but themselves.  We have a simple mutation that lets us interact with lyrium safely.  Nothing more.  The Fade isn’t real, just as spirits and demon are simple fairy tales from a time science didn’t exist.  We are not a threat.  Ever.”

“I agree that we are no different, only cursed or blessed with the gene depending on your interpretation.”  Evie replied, learning then not to admit anything about her family to this man.  “I have been beaten by templars.  I am here because my freedom was barred from me beyond the Circle.  I just sometimes wonder if the true enemy is the Chantry.”

“Oh, we can agree on that.”  Ander laughed once.  “Just don’t forgot the templars are the Chantry’s might.  No change can come about unless the Chantry hears us over their damn knights.  They still cannot hear our cries.  It is about time we _make them all_ _listen_.”

 

_Four days later, Meredith went crazy._

_Just as I said that walk home, lyrium was a poison as much as a beneficial steroid.  However, I had never heard of red lyrium before, a new more potent version of the typical blue disseminated by the Carta.  It was a natural mineral that had driven the ancient dwarves crazy, forgotten for ages until it was discovered again.  I always wondered if Father had not barred me from legally fighting the dwarven mafia, I could have avoid the distribution of that horrible refined mineral.  Anders was right that most templars chose to start taking lyrium, even red lyrium.  Cullen and Rian demonstrated a templar can break the blue lyrium chain.  However, a knight or mage will never survive after taking the red stuff._

_I was in Darktown when the hostage situation occurred.  I had stayed there after that night at Hanged Man because templars came in every night looking for the musician.  I had been awoken by a scared child needing a doctor to help her sick mother.  I searched for Anders, but it looked like he never came back the previous night.  I thought he might have been caught._

_Then the Chantry exploded._

_Somehow, in my scared and messed up mind, I knew he had been the one to do it.  How he spoke that walk home, he already had everything planned.  I think he was searching if I would assist him.  I guess I convinced him otherwise, too sympathetic to the enemy._

_Hawke was not as lucky.  In the chaos that followed the next two weeks, I learned Hawke and the gang actually help set the bombs under the Chantry.  Just as I learned Sebastian regained his crown with Hawke’s help with no recognition whatsoever, the Champion help gather the needed materials needed to make the bombs.  If I had seen the supply list, I could have told the authorities or at least warned Veronica.  As a lyrium geologist, it was easy to see what it was.  However, no one knew I was a trained lyrium geologist._

_I withheld my identity to save my own skin._

_Esme, everything I have ever done since that day has been to repay my greatest sins…well, up to that point.  By the end of this story, it will explain all my deepest sins.I should have seen the signs of lyrium insanity in Meredith.  Her paranoiac actions were prime textbook examples.  I studied Trevelyan miners who worked with dwarves.  I saw firsthand the decay of sanity and bodily function.  I never saw Meredith, thank the Maker, but her actions would have been enough to clue my thick head._

_I should have known Mother and Father would have never arranged a marriage without my knowledge._

_I should have known by Anders’ questioning and strange late night projects in the sewers that he was planning something horrible._

_I should have never slept with a fucking mass murderer, even though I had no idea what he was going to do._

_I should have told someone, anyone outside of Kirkwall what I witnessed before, during, and after the explosion.  Father could have notified the Divine.  Rian could have marched the Ostwick templars into the Gallows and demoted Meredith and her officers._

_But, I didn’t._

_I did nothing._

_I put myself back on the radar, knowing it would just be a day before security would find me.  In that time, I emptied my bank accounts, called all my medical friends in the Free Marches, and anyone else I could think of to send relief.  All my connections as a Trevelyan, researcher, and a decent person were contacted to help Kirkwall’s people.  I gave my money to the poor so they could run away from the riots and bloodshed.  I used the stolen motorcycle to drive place-to-place to pull people out of destroyed buildings.  I even beat the shit out a man trying to rape a young elven woman concussed and slowly bleeding to death.  He had already trapped her young toddler girls in their alienage house to have his way with afterwards.  Thank the Creators, Adelheid taught me beginner Elvhen.  I got them out before he woke up, and their mother only lasted a block before the brain injury killed her.  I hope I killed that sonofabitch now I am thinking about it.  I should have smashed his skull and penis open like a watermelon and hammer._

_Still, all of my actions then will never make up for my failures._

_So, when Knotts walked into the clinic while Bethany and I were trying to treat the wounded, I did not run or fight.  I just hung my head, handed the mage nurse the Hawke Family violin, and followed the bodyguard out the door.  There was nothing more I could do, or rather nothing more than just hide like the craven I really was.  I was a disgrace to the Trevelyan name.  The mutation did not make me the black sleep, it was inaction._

 

“Is that what you truly believe?” Philliam replied, hearing Evie’s confession.  His hands were in his suit pockets, while he watched the blood red waves of Kirkwall Bay hit the ship peer.  “You’re a disgrace?”

Evie hung her head, covered in grime, blood of other people, and ash.  “Yes.  So, whatever that is asked of me, I will do so.  Marry Sebastian even…Well, you should know:  I’m not a virgin.”

Philliam chuckled a few times.  “I know.  Your idea was amazing, actually.  Good thing I poisoned Rian’s food again the day before prom so he couldn’t return.  He was actually well enough to return to duty by then.  I was just so impressed by your willingness that I had to help.  I never thought my own sister would defy the bann, your father, though.”

Evie wrinkled her brow.  “What did Lucille do?”

“The marriage, the false filed proposal to your Circle, everything….she did it.”  Philliam admitted, shifting between his feet.  “Your wonderful cousin Burton helped of course, wanting to fuck over your father, who punished him for beating you that one time.”

Evie felt weak in the knees.  “I knew it.  I knew it, but…”  Tears poured down her cheeks as her sins continued to mount.

“Oh, Phoenix.  Do not cry.” Philliam walked up to his great-niece.  She did not take his offered hug.  If anything, she backed away and almost ran into the bay to drown herself.  “None of this your fault.  Yes, you are observant and smart, but what happened here began far before you arrived.  The Trevelyans watched everything closely for a long time, but could not move unless the Divine said so.  Nothing was confirmed or denied.  The Grand Cleric sat on her hands, staying ‘neutral’ because she believed everything was in the Maker’s hands.  The Gallows was a shitshow for both the templars and mages.  Meredith’s insanity was there even before her first draught.  She blamed all mages for the actions her sister did.  That knight-commander’s sister—poor little Stennard girl—had been gang raped, so she drank pure lyrium to get back at the boys.  She just ended up killing fifty people before being put down.  Meredith did not understand and just made assumptions.  Everyone but you failed this city.  However, you _will_ fail them if you don’t stay and help.”

Evie shook her head.  “Stay?  What?  I thought you were here to claim me.”

Philliam’s mirth rang out over the docks like nothing terrible happened in the last five ages.  “What?  Maker, no!  Why would remove the one woman who can actually make a difference here?”

Evie threw a look at Knotts, who just shrugged.  “I don’t understand…”

“Oh, Phoenix.”  Her great uncle cooed.  He waved to Hemingway behind him for the folder he held.  “Use your knowledge, talents, and observations here.  I have everything here for you.”

“Philliam, I’m a mage.”  Evie waved to herself.  “If I even show my face to the templars, they’ll make me tranquil.”

“Good thing you’re here _because_ you are a mage.” 

Evie’s mouth gapped.  She referenced the city burning behind her.  “You know this Kirkwall, right?  A Mage’s Hellish Void of Thedas?  A mage blew up the Chantry with hundreds of innocent people inside.  A mage here is lucky not to get shot or stabbed as soon as entering the city gates!”

“Thus why you will show them who a mage really is.”  Philliam offered the flustered woman a folder Hemingway had been holding.

Evie snatched it.  She flipped it open and started reading.  “This is from First Enchanter Lydia…offering my lyrium and geology expertise…on behalf of Divine Justinia?!”

“Using your scholarly name helped with backdating your Circle pass and identification, by the way.”  Philliam commented, smirking wickedly.  “That is actually a request from the Divine for you to be here.  She just doesn’t need to know you have been here for a month already.  I don’t think she will actually care, if you ever tell the truth.  She always has a soft spot for you when she and I would dine together.  You are the only mage authorized by the Chantry to study, research, and dispose of illegal lyrium and its steroids in the Free Marches.  That request came in one week ago after the leading knight-captain requested a lyrium geologist come and assist the templars and local city government.”

“A week ago?”  Evie called, shaking that she could have been helping sooner.

“I thank you for using your bank account yesterday because I knew you were here somewhere, but just not exactly which house.  Knotts had narrowed you down to east Darktown and the Hanged Man.  As soon as he heard a crazy dancing violinist was entertaining the local drunks, we just planned to wait until you came back for drinks.  By the way, its serves aged Antivan tequila now.  Has cases of it and will so for the foreseeable future.  Your new rooms are in an old Hightown building by the market and also has plenty of bottles, along with some honey mead we found on the ship, just in case you ever get stick of killing your liver with Antivan battery acid.  Your research clothes, geology gear, testing supplies, safety equipment, and even working running water is that the apartment.  Please, get a bath.  I do not want you getting tetanus, or worse, become Orlesian.”

“Mead?” Evie giggled, finding herself smiling for the first time in over a month.  Her mind attached to that over everything else that insanely happened in this meeting.  “Why was there mead on board?”

“The Ferelden ship was commandeered by us because one of your local Rivaini friends keeps plundering and sinking ours.”  He scratched his neck.  “By the way, those vigilantes still don’t know who you actually are.  That being said, your submitted passcode name to the templars is ‘Anchor.’  ‘Phoenix’ is too well known by them since you’re Rian’s sister and visit home often.  You never have to give them your real or research name, if you are too antsy.  Actually, they prefer you don’t.  All of them are using the passcode names, even their knight-captain.  Although, he didn’t inform us of it, so good luck finding out which templar he is.  You know they all look the same.”

“Like who we mages wonder how they could stack shit that high?” Evie joked, elbowing Knotts in the side.  The city elf quickly smiled before returning to his blankness.

“Exactly.”  Philliam swallowed hard.  “You must know, when we leave, you’re on your own.  The Trevelyans cannot play in this urine-filled public pool with fecal boats floating about right now.  The Spire and the Grand Cathedral are warring over what to do, while other Circle mages are sniffing at possible revolution.  Something massive will tear up Thedas.  War’s inevitable, but Maker knows who can actually resolve it.  As soon as you leave this peer, you’re ABD Evelyn Monroe, lyrium geologist and mage here on behalf of Ostwick Circle.  If something happens, even _I_ won’t know.”

Evie nodded and bit her lip.  “Understood.  Tell Mother and Father…I should have trusted them.”

“Your father did say he wished he could have protected you without you giving your innocence away.  I mean, to someone you love and cared about.”  Philliam rephrased.  “He doesn’t know it was Alistair from my specific mouth, but he figured it was.  No other man has been that close to you.  Rian hasn’t allowed it.”

“Maker, don’t let anyone tell Rian.  I promised Ali.”  Evie panicked, shaking her head violently.  Her bobbed brown hair batted her blanched cheeks.

“Maker, fuck no.” Her great uncle cussed, pivoting away.  “I like that guy too much.  You and he both have amazing taste in women.  Still think it’s weird you share one another.”

Evie slapped her forehead.  “Can I have any privacy!?  I am doing all that so they can have a kid!  Yes, I can’t have kids, but there is nothing saying I can carry someone else’s offspring.  My uterus is not getting used anytime here soon.”  She tapped her arm.  “Good ole Chantry IUDs, the pricks.  Do you think it’s a huge oxymoron that the Chantry is against contraceptives, but makes mages have one _implanted_ in them when they start their periods?  What the fuck, you know?”  Evie tucked her hair.  “Why the fuck am I even telling you this?  Fucking city is driving _me_ fucking nuts.”

Philliam waved his hand over his head, denoting for Knotts and Hemingway to follow.  “You have privacy here now.  And if saying a threesome every time you go to Denerim is for them to have a kid…well, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Fucking Maker…damn you old man…” Evie grumbled, walking down the dock.  She shoved the folder under her arm.  She stopped and twirled around.  “Did you leave my violin in my room!?”

Philliam glanced back, almost out of earshot.  “Phoenix, you wound me.  I cannot have you dancing on bar tables with that old Hawke violin.”

Evie flicked off her great uncle.  “Privacy begins now, asshole!”

“That’s Great-Uncle Charming and Loving Asshole to you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maker, I love writing Philliam. He is an older version of Dorian and Evie combined. He is blunt in his own sassy and cunning way. XD!
> 
> Also, poor Esme. For six years, he had to hide Evie's secret from everyone, while working beside the man who left her dying and broken hearted.
> 
> [1] “Adam Ruins Everything” had a great explanation about the hymen and all the myths about women virginity. You can watch it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ikXim4wevc). As a maternal and infant medical historian, I read countless accounts of “examinations” that sometime determined if a woman lived or died based on this stupid myth. Ugh.


	17. Rock Hard (Evie Flashback)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the year draws to a close, I wanted to give you all one last chapter to keep you happy until I update again. Personally, I'm VERY happy 2018 is almost over. Let's hope 2019 will be SO MUCH BETTER!
> 
> Chapter Song: "(Can't Get My) Head Around You" by The Offspring

_Thursday Night, Justinian 19:37 Online_

“This is perfect, Monkey!” Varric hollered, jumping out of his seat.  He raced to his writing notebook.  The old-style fountain pen he always used danced across a blank page.  “Now that you are _legally_ here, we can have a concert.  A relief concert in the marketplace.  Cast it online possibly.  Show the world that Kirkwall is rebounding and not trying to start a mage revolution, while giving the innocent people here some good music and much needed happiness.  This is going to be amazing!”

Evie glanced up from the microscope she brought to the Amell Mansion.  “Varric, I’m here to investigate and dispose of the red lyrium everywhere.”  She lifted the shard of raw red lyrium in a specialized sealed container, seven plastic and glass layers thick.  “I asked you how the fuck you have this, and you reply with voluntelling me to perform for a burning city?”  She took a shot of Antivan tequila right by the microscope.  She replenished the glass with the full bottle nearby, golden and expensive:  just like she liked it.

“Come on, Monkey!”  Varric waved his hands in the air.  Ink sprayed from the old-fashioned pen.  “You have been pouting around Darktown for two weeks.  Now, you have an opportunity to actually do some needed good.”

“Where is the shard from, dwarf?”  Evie snapped, slamming the container down on the table and twisting herself in the wooden chair.

“Do the concert, and I’ll tell you.”  The failing writer grinned like an idiot.  “Please…?”

Hawke stomped through the front foyer, slamming the outside door hard.  “You look pathetic begging, Varric.  I thought you did some strange shit with Bianca, but this is just weird.”

The surface dwarf grabbed his prized last-age sniper rifle and cupped like a newborn infant.  It looked like something a steampunk cosplayer made for a convention, then threw out in the trash.  However, Evie had to admit it was accurate and deathly.  It responded to Varric’s every move.  The bolt rocked like silk every time he reloaded a clip.  A great deal of innocent people were saved this past week with it.  The criminals took advantage of the chaos to pillage, rape, and murder anyone with no consequences.  Hawke’s vigilantes were very busy since the explosion, thus why the Champion looked like someone shit in her Cheerios bowl right then.

Veronica flicked her lilac eyes at Evie, glaring like she could shock Evie with lightning bolts.  “You’re a mage lyrium geologist.  You could have said something.”

Evie expected this lecture.  Despite Philliam’s reassurance that afternoon, Evie still blamed herself for everything that happened.  She could have stopped half of this nonsense weeks before it fell apart.  If working with relief workers now can help atone for her past sins, the geologist will give everything in her power now.

“Yes…”  The musician whispered, her chocolate eyes flicked back to her laboratory set up. 

Hawke offered the dining room table as a workplace.  The apartment Philliam reserved by the Hightown Marketplace was just a small studio, big enough for a queen size bed, her clothes and liquor, and a tiny standing-shower bathroom.  Maker, it was the heavens taking a shower with fresh running water.  The leg hair she razed off her legs earlier looked like it could be used for a wig.  The armpit and groin hair was far worse than that.  One thing she will forever love about being nobility is access to hair removal treatment.  If she did not tame her excess hair, she would look like a Wookie.

“Would you care to explain why you never said anything before?”  The Champion continued.  Her accusing tone demonstrated Evie should have told her everything without a prompt.

“I was here illegally for an unrelated situation.”  Evie worded everything carefully.  She had to hide she was a Trevelyan.  Veronica was an Amell and knew the Free Marches nobility.  The Trevelyan name littered the docks and business districts for its multiple monopolies and corporations.  Right now, she was just Evie Monroe, mage lyrium researcher here to understand and disposal the new form of lyrium and assist the crumbling city.  “Just this afternoon, a Chantry agent collected me from the clinic.  I thought they were going to kill me.  Instead, they gave me a specialized Chantry pass to actively assist the city.  That’s why I can sit here with all this equipment and raw red lyrium and not get my brain popped with a templar needle.”

Bethany popped her head out from the kitchen.  Sandal and she were making dinner for the group with canned food rations, the only provisions available at the moment.  “Do you think you can figured that stuff out?  Find a way to avoid the paranoia and harsh illness that follows.  As a nurse, I’ve never seen the immune response that it induces.  We keep losing people to fever and brain swelling.”

Hawke stomped and punched a nearby wall.  “I don’t give a flying fuck what she is doing now!”  She pointed at Evie, grabbed her canvas shirt, and lifted her out of the wooden chair.  “You could have avoided all this shit!”

 Evie had been telling herself that for two weeks now, but Veronica did not need to know that.  “What?  Like waltzed up to Meredith and tell her she has been exposed to a delusional steroid that exacerbates her anger and fear response?  Or known what chemicals and elements you all collected for Anders to make his homemade pipe bombs?  Possibly looked at the sewer network and see how it was built under the Chantry in just a way that if you placed a few explosive by the underground supports it would just crumble it like a clown car?!”  Evie screamed into Veronica’s face.  “I was told _nothing_ , you Maker-damned bitch!”

“You slept with him.”  Hawke hissed back, touching her nose to Evie’s.

Evie made sure spit flicked into Hawke’s face as she talked.  “So did you!  Yet, I did not use him like a fuck buddy while my ex-boyfriend had his head up his ass!”

Hawke reared her fist back, preparing to beat the shit out of Evie.  The musician wanted her to.  Hawke was right _and_ wrong.  Evie should have been more observant and active, but Hawke had been here for _years_.  She was given the golden key to the city-state and made Champion, the highest civilian honorary title a Kirkwall resident could receive without being voted into a political office.  Evie knew Hawke’s anger was primarily at herself for the mess.  Evie was just an easy target.

Carver grabbed his sister’s wrist.  The hollering woke him from his afternoon nap.  He had been awake for three days straight assisting relief and had finally gotten some time to rest.  “Hawke, breathe.”  It was ironic he was the one who defused the situation.  He typically started the fights.

Isabella came into the mansion from the back door, swaying her hips and snickering.  “Oh, just like them fuck themselves senseless.  They both need it right now.”  Her brown eyes twinkled at the two women so close together they inhaled each other’s breaths.  “Let me join…?”

Hawke let go of Evie’s shirt and shoved her away.  “Fix this shit.”

Evie straightened her work canvas button down and pulled her bobbed hair out of its short ponytail.  “First, one of you needs to tell me where this sample came from.”

Veronica’s lilac orbs dulled as she looked at Varric.  He swallowed.  The dwarf grabbed his ale tankard and gulped it down quickly.  He motioned to Evie to take her shot glass.  “It’s a part of an ancient primeval dwarven idol Hawke and I found years ago.”

Evie squinted.  “An idol?  Like a paragon statue?”  She flopped herself down back into her seat.  She shot the tequila quickly.

“When Mom and I smuggled the family into Kirkwall during the Blight, we thought we were rich.  The Amells were a powerful Kirkwall family dating back ages.  When we arrived, we discovered my uncle embezzled away all the money, lost the mansion, and had debtors hunting him.  It was bloody mess.”  Hawke meandered to her liquor cabinet, almost bare because of the lack of booze and supplies in the city.  The gang drank constantly to forget how many people they killed and their horrific experiences.  “I met Varric when he was looking for some collaborators aka muscle to venture into the Deep Roads and pillage a primeval thaig.  He discovered an old Grey Warden map to it.  We were pretty sure the place was sealed and untouched.  It probably had been that way since the start of the First Blight.”

Evie blinked a few times.  “The Deep Roads.  You idiots went down there!?”  Evie drank directly from the tequila bottle, several long gulps with a relaxed throat.  “I walked into the Deep Roads during my Masters degree.  I was with Grey Wardens officers who were investigating a murder found about a mile in.  As a geologist—and huge history and archeology buff—I was excited to see what it was like.  Five minutes and I ran like a chicken shit out of there.  There is a bloody reason why the thaigs were abandoned.  Historians predict third-fourths of the dwarven population died during the multiple Blight epidemics that went through the thaigs.  Those that survived were disfigured and went crazy, thus why for ages the Chantry declared a bunch of Tevinter mages entered the Golden City and became ‘darkspawn.’  The Blight was the Maker’s punishment.  Stupid idiots…There are still people who think that, thus the Circles!  The Blight is a lingering virus that stays alive and feeds off of anything that lives!”  Evie took a few more gulps.  “Sorry.  I ramble when I’m shocked or drunk.  I’m currently both, by the way.”

“Bed mate?” Isabella sang, taking a shot of tequila for herself.  She wiggled her eyebrows.

“You wish…” Evie huffed.  She stared down at the shot glass the pirate used.  It was the same one Evie had been using since she arrived.  Thank the Maker liquor was antiseptic and killed any diseases her mouth carried.

“Do you think we didn’t know that?” Varric jumped back into the conversation.  “That’s how we met Anders.  He was a warden for a few years.”

Evie nodded and smirked.  “I figured there was another reason the templars hadn’t picked him up.”  The geologist froze.  “Wow…I have only slept with wardens…”

Isabella pissed herself laughing.  “You know how to find the best people with great stamina.  Wardens are the best, with templars high on lyrium second on the list.”

The musician rolled her chocolate eyes, blown wide at the prospect of sleeping with a knight.  “Wouldn’t know…There are rules about fraternizing with templars, especially mages, except when you know they rape people in the Circles.  Anders was right about that one!”

“How does sex always end up in our conversations?”  Carver asked, flopping down on a nearby sofa.  He held a whiskey glass filled to the brim almost spilling it on his white tank top and heather grey sweatpants.

Hawke smirked and pointed up the mansion stairs.  “It’s not hard when all we hear is you making Merrill wail like a banshee every night.  No wonder the elf is sleeping through all this hollering.” 

Carver sank into the sofa, blushing crimson.  “I hate you.” 

Bethany just giggled behind her gloved hand.  “When are you going to propose?”

Carver bolted out of the sofa, spilling his drink everywhere.  He kept shushing her and everyone laughing at him.  “Shut up!  She doesn’t know I found Mom’s engagement ring!”

Evie cackled from her seat.  Varric ran to her, nearly knocking over her and the chair.  “That’s it!  You can play and serenade them while he proposes!  Andraste’s tits, all of this would be an awesome romance serial!”

Carver and Evie both pointed at the dwarf.  “No!”

Varric shrugged and chuckled.  “Come on, Junior.  It’s perfect.  You and Merrill can play back up.  The piece ends, and you lead her to the front of the stage and propose!  Storybook proposal!”

Evie scrunched her nose.  “Merrill doesn’t play an instrument.”

Carver scratched her head, tossing his black hair out of his eyes.  “Actually, yeah, she does.  It’s this Dalish thing that looks like a harp, but you use a halla haired bow to strum it.  Kinda reminds me of a violin.”

“See!”  Varric called, flashing his small hands at Evie.  “Everything is coming together!”

“One problem, dwarf:  Knight-Captain Noodle Head will never allow a gathering of hundreds of people while the city crumbles and red lyrium is poisoning everything.”  Hawke comment, getting a mouthed ‘thank you’ from Evie.

Varric rolled his eyes.  “Please…I can handle Curly.  I have a way with him.”

“Like how he tosses you across the street every time you bug him.”  Carver added, returning to the liquor cabinet for more whiskey.

The dwarf waved.  “Nah.  That happened once.  I knew when he’s joking.”

Evie huffed, and crossed her arms, hand still grasping the tequila bottle.  “Templars don’t joke.”

“I used to play piano…”  Bethany called from the kitchen door.  She completely forgot the dinner burning in the kitchen.  Sandal just watched the gas burners singe the spam frying on a pan.

“No, Bethany…”  Hawke hissed, wandering away from this part of the conversation.

Bethany grimaced and shifted her feet.  Her sun dress shifted with the weight, one of the few clothes she had that was clean and could keep out the heat.  “I’m fine, Veronica.”

“Your hands have never been the same since the Blight infection!”  Veronica shouted across the room.  “You barely have any use when you sew someone back together as a nurse.  The doctors warned you if you play again, they will have to amputate because of the nerve damage.”

Evie winced, indirectly glancing at the Hawke twin.  She had always wondered why Bethany always had gloves on and wore long sleeves.  Maker’s balls!  She was lucky that that was all the Blight did.  It usually made people deaf, blind, and a vegetable if they survived the long and constant pain.

“Oh, let Sunshine decide for herself what she wants to do, Hawke.”  Varric’s attention flicked back at the frowning Champion.  He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the hurt Bethany.  Evie was surprised his raging chest hair did not rip the button open completely when he moved.  “You’re more than welcome to participate.”

Evie rubbed her right temple, while swigging from the tequila bottle.  She glanced down at the bottle and saw how empty it already was.  One day she will reflect on her time in Kirkwall and say she was a drunk idiot the whole damn time.  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions I am even doing this.  Besides, you all were telling me about a thaig and this shard, remember?”

“I was hoping you forgot about that.”  Varric mumbled to himself, meandering towards the ice cooler that chilled the beer.  The Hawke mansion only had electricity in specific areas because of the explosion wrecked the old wiring.  He snatched himself another lager and decided to sit with Evie at the dining table.  He flung himself into the chair and flipped the bottle cap across the room.  He beaned Carver in the back of the head.  The male Hawke twirled around and snarled.  “Well, we found the thaig, but my brother Bartrand found the idol first.  He ran off with it, laughing like a banshee into the night living us high and dry with no supplies.  Thank Andraste’s tits Anders had his maps or we would be skeletons down there now.”

Evie stopped rumbling her temples.  She squinted and tilted her head towards Varric.  “Varric, you tell all those bombastic stories, but why have I never heard about a brother?”

“None of my stories are bombastic, Monkey.  Everything happened and is real.”

Isabella smirked, nudging her shot glass towards Evie for another tequila.  “Just like all my orgasms are natural and truthful.”  She sarcastically sang as Evie reluctantly gave the pirate more tequila.

“Bartrand’s dead.” Hawke sighed.  “Died in Kirkwall’s Chantry sanitarium after we found him foaming at the mouth and remarking all the statues in the family mansions were alive.”

“How long ago was this from him leaving with the idol?”  Evie picked up her notepad, making notes on the story.

“He was gone for three years after the expedition.  My agents stated he might have gone to Rivain.  We’re not sure.”  Varric replied, gulping his beer to get through this conversation.  “Suddenly, he’s back at the estate in Hightown.  Hawke and I stormed in to beat the shit out of him for leaving us to die.  Instead, he just laid there foaming and talking about ‘the song.’  There was no idol.  However, there was evidence that the Carta had been pursuing him.”

Evie squeezed her eyes shut, her head hit the table.  “Because of course they are involved.  If they even touched the idol, figured out what it was made of, and figured out there was possible profit…I’m surprised it took so long for it to pop up.”

“We put him in the sanitarium.”  Hawke continued, wishing to avoid what Carta involvement meant to everything at the moment.  “Three years after that, we discover Bartrand died inside…but not from the red lyrium exposure, as you might expect.  He had been tortured horribly by a faux doctor, a Carta agent, searching for the possibility there was more to the idol than believed.”

Varric pointed to the contained shard Evie had been studying.  “That’s it.  We found it in the estate after reading Bartrand’s will.  The plan initially was to have Sandal destroy it.  He is an excellent metallurgist specializing in lyrium composition…just not completely there mentally.  We feared what the shard would do to him even in a controlled environment.”

Evie nodded, looking at the shard through the thick glass.  She had spoken to Sandal several times over the last month.  He was like Esme as a child.  No one worked with him to help him with his autism.  He was farther down the spectrum than Esme.  “I have a brother like him.  He understands this type of thing too.  Why would the Carta come back for the sample if they got ahold of the main idol?  Their drug researchers can synthetize almost anything lyrium related, thus why they can get away with not having a natural lyrium seam.  All lyrium production is controlled by Orzammar, except synthesized lyrium because it’s illegal.  Synthesized lyrium is extremely dangerous because of filler materials, and there is no regulation.  If Carta was able to replicate this version, Maker, no wonder Meredith was horrific.”

Hawke’s cheek twitched.  “You seem to know a great deal about a mafia organization.”

Evie laughed.  “That’s because they tried to kill me for two years until that specific arm was eliminated mysteriously.”

The woman squinted, studying Evie closely.  “Lucky break.  The Carta that so happened to want to kill you just is whipped off the planet.”

Evie could tell Hawke was extremely suspicious of her.  Despite giving information without _giving_ any details peaked the Champion’s interest and harsh gaze.  Evie could not blame her.  After her friend blew up the Chantry, Hawke probably was double checking anyone within her social circles.  Evie knew she needed this person’s help in Kirkwall.  Depending on what occurred in the next week, the geologist might be able to win her trust again…or find herself at the end of her Walter PP-K and confessing her noble identity.  That will not end well, especially when Hawke realizes what type of power the Trevelyans truly have and could have assisted the city sooner.  For the first time since arriving in Kirkwall, Evie truly feared for her life.

“Everyone has enemies.”  Evie shrugged, hoping her face was somewhat convincing.  “When the Carta get too powerful or muddles in specific pools, the Orzammar steps in and reminds the mafia of how little their reach is within the dwarven capital.  The Dwarves cannot control what happens on the surface, but if the Carta wants to remain among the dwarves—even Dust Town—they must play nice.  In my case, I was discovering shady politicians getting kickbacks on illegal lyrium manufactured by the Carta.  I started revealing skeletons in closets that even the dwarves could not overlook.  So, the Assembly did the one thing they could:  kill and destroy any and all evidence.  The government made it look like a crackdown on the Carta, but somehow my personal research on the politicians disappeared.  I was warned if I went snooping again, the Carta will be the least of my problems.  Add the fact that the whole ruffle could impact all trade with the Chantry, and I was shoved into a cage that I had control if I stepped out of or not.  If I did, my life was not just at risk but possibly hundreds of templars and mages.”

Hawke’s expressions shifted from suspicion to confusion.  “How would they have been impacted?”

Evie knew she was divulging very secret information that the Chantry, Orzammar, and Carta hid well.  She fought for over two years to reveal the issues, but was stonewalled constantly.  Her family and she were threatened economically as well as with murder.  Her father’s own business dealings would flounder if the public discovered what was happening.  However, this information was important now because if the corruption had continued rather than been resolved like Orzammar and the Chantry stated, they had a new horrific problem.

Evie stood up, glanced at the other people in the mansion.  By now, Varric and Bethany were realizing the state of dinner.  Sandal kept apologizing with bows.  Fenris and Isabella were talking about Carver and Merrill’s sex lives, specific why marriage would ruin their intimacy.  Some of these people had worse ADHD than Esme.  If it was not about booze, food, and sex, they did not really care, especially if it might explain this new lyrium.

The geologist stepped towards Hawke.  She prayed her cracking voice and wary gaze told the Champion to keep her mouth shut.  “So, Orzammar likes to make the surface believe they have an infinite supply of natural blue lyrium and access to new seams any time demand increases.  While I was in Orzammar, I started noticing the chemical changes in lyrium supplies being sold to the Chantry.  The head foremen stated it was the chemical changes between seams.  When I tested raw lyrium with the refined product being sold to the surface, the chemical composition changed.  It was not occurring during the processing.  It was a refined lyrium with additional minerals not there before.  Refinement is meant to remove unwanted minerals.  I first hypothesized Orzammar was trying to pack—as in fill with unreactive elements—to meet production demands when lyrium seams were rare, thus making it less potent than if it was completely raw lyrium refined.  However, that made no sense because everything there _was_ refined lyrium.”

Hawke wrinkled her brow.  “Then what was causing the changes?”

“You know how I mentioned Carta makes synthetized lyrium?”  Evie reminded the woman.  Hawke’s eyes widen.  “Yes, they were making deals with Carta to supplement the low true lyrium.  However, synthetized lyrium is extremely more addictive and increases paranoia because of how it’s made.  The Chantry did not want anyone knowing because it would just build on the templar notion that once you’re addicted, you can never leave the Order.  That has become a major debate between templars for the last five years, especially with the increased media coverage of templar losing their minds.  Yes, Anders blew up the Chantry for mage rights, but also did so for templar demands to restrain mages because of the paranoia.”

“But that was before red lyrium.”  Hawke observed, running her hand through her black pixie cut.  “If Meredith was taking red lyrium, how would that impact her paranoia and actions?”

Evie swayed between her feet.  “I’ve always been told to go with my gut instincts.  From what I know about Carta and synthetic lyrium…If Carta figured out a way to recreate red lyrium, they would have been adding it to their blue supplies as well as making it separately.  More addicts make more recurring customers.  Orzammar’s natural blue lyrium seams become rarer, while demand goes through the roof.  Let’s say because templars are taking more to retaliate against mages for Anders’ actions from this point onward.  They become more addicted thus more dependent on the Chantry, which they hate so much they might go directly to the source.”

Hawke continued with the theory.  “Orzammar does not have the lyrium, so they must pack with the synthetic Carta lyrium, which now contains red lyrium.”  Hawke smacked her forehead.  “Maker’s arse, this could corrupt the Order and the Circles.  _Everyone!_ It still does not explain why it’s different and why the Carta would want that shard.”

“Something must have happened to the idol.  Maybe the Carta could not replicate it and used up the idol before figuring out the formula.  Maybe there is something about red lyrium that makes artificially recreate it almost impossible.”  Evie threw out possibilities in hopes something would make sense.

“If they could not reproduce it, how is it all over Kirkwall?”  Veronica questioned, tossing her hand towards the contained shard.

“I don’t know.  I don’t know the growth rate of it compared with blue lyrium.”  Evie replied, feeling like she did not have all the pieces.

“Growth rate?”

Evie held herself.  “The dwarves believe blue lyrium is alive, just like the Stone is them returning after death.  As the only beings to safely mine it, they believe it grows from their ancestors and past civilization over ages.  I met a Shaperate archivist named Valta while studying there, who believed it tied to giants called titans who are asleep, but they make the world.”  Hawke gave the geologist a skeptical eye.  “I know, weird, but if history has taught me anything is that all legends and beliefs stem from bits of truth.  Science helps flush out those truths to find the real explanation.  For example, the red lyrium was craved into an idol, most likely a primeval paragon or ancestor important in that thaig’s religious beliefs.  They saw the differences in it versus natural blue lyrium.”

“But that does not explain growth rate.”  Hawke quipped.

Evie rolled her eyes.  “What I am trying to say is lyrium is not just present and gone forever.  It comes back over geological time.  Sometimes even with a few dwarven lifetimes if conditions are perfect.  A seam run bare might be fruitful again after a few ages or millennia if a node or two are left to recrystallize.  However, I don’t know if that is true about red lyrium.  This idol might have been made to separate it from growing in place of blue lyrium.  Crystal growth differs from ranging compositions, such as where it is grown, nearby lava flows, or water running through the rock.  That could be what was giving Carta the problem.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t grow at all.”  Hawke prayed aloud staring at the contained shard on the table.

Evie and Hawke’s eyes shifted from one another to see Varric jogging towards the front door.  He slipped on his coat jacket, giggling like a kid who was going to the candy store.  Bethany was speaking with Carver about music and compositions, while Isabella snatched the rest of Evie’s tequila bottle and drank the rest.

“Where are you going, dwarf?”  Hawke called towards the front door.

“I’m going to talk to some friends about sound and stage equipment.  I can’t visit Curly tonight, so I’ll just go in the morning.  It does not mean I cannot get everything else going beforehand.”  Varric laughed and clapped.

“Varric!  I cannot do the concert!”  Evie hollered, rubbing her temples.  “There is a potentially serious problem going on that threatens Kirkwall and possibly beyond the Free Marches!  As soon as I report to the templars tomorrow, my hands will be full with everything.  There is no way I will be able to compose music, a dance, and perform on top of my duties!”

Varric huffed and waved his hands.  “Please!  You performed just fine at the Hanged Man.  We just threw on some techno and you were prancing and playing perfectly.  Whatever Sunshine and Junior establish, roll with it.”

“It doesn’t work like that!”  Evie hollered, pacing back and forth.  “It takes a long time to compose, revise, and practice.  Even if I had music available-“  Evie leaned towards Hawke and whispered.  “-which I do because I have been composing for myself for years-“  Her voice returned to shouting.  “There would be no way it would be done for Saturday!”

“Oh, come on, Monkey…”  Varric exhaled, trying his best to pout.  “It all depends on the knight-captain and Muscles anyway.”

“Muscles?”

Hawke rolled her eyes.  “Probably means Aveline, the captain of Kirkwall’s police force.  He has been trying out nicknames for her for years, but nothing really fits.”

Varric waltzed up to Evie, pulling out a small black notebook from his jacket pocket.  “Look.  Let’s make a bet:  if I win, you perform on Saturday.  If you win, I will never say a single thing about it ever again.  I’ll eat my words.”

Evie glanced at Hawke, crossing her arms over her chest.  “Do you really think this templar knight-captain and Aveline will ban it?”

“Aveline?  She will give him a lecture on the police situation right now.  If he misspeaks in any way, she will throw him out of her office.  There is absolutely _no way_ Varric can convince Knight-Captain Noodle Head.  If anything, when he goes to talk to the asshole, Bethany will need to pull Varric’s head out of his own ass.”

Evie tilted her head.  “It’s a deal if both people agree to the concert.  This all has to be completely agreed upon by all authorities.  No innocent people can be put in harm’s way.  I will never forgive myself.  I will happily be made tranquil after I rip you limb from limb.”

Varric beamed, offering his right hand.  “Deal!  Oh, you won’t regret this, Monkey.”

Evie rolled her eyes.  She shook the dwarf’s hand, feeling a sense of dread fill her.  “Andraste’s tits, what in the fuck am I thinking…”

“Oh, come on!”  Varric laughed, patting Evie’s back.  “It will be great!”

Evie thought for a moment.  “Hey, can I have the key to Bartnard’s mansion?  I want to investigate it for potential chemical and geological compositions.  The more I know about the surfaced lyrium, the best I can determine what is happening to everyone.”

Varric waved to Hawke.  “Sure.  Hawke has the key.  I’m been trying to sell it since we found him inside.  No one wants a potentially haunted house.  It’s in Hightown in the neighborhood past where the Chantry used to be.”

“Meaning it could have been destroyed.”  Evie exhaled and rubbed her temples again.  “I’ll just check there first before going to the templars in the morning.  I’ll bring the shard back after I’m done.  I’m going to go back to the apartment and run it through a machine that was too heavy to bring here.  It will give me a better idea on what we are dealing with it.”

“Watch your exposure, Monkey.”  Varric warned, eying the shard from afar.  “I’m already allowing you to study it longer than any other specialist.  If it starts ‘talking’ to you, get rid of it!”

Evie smiled.  “I’m not worried too much.  Somehow, I survived well around raw lyrium in Orzammar.  The container you have it in is extremely powerful to control the radioactive mineral, even excusive with eight layers of plastic and glass protective glass.”

“I’m not risking it.”  Varric stared at the shard like it was speaking to him.  “I saw the crazy shit it did to my brother.  If I want you to play at the concert, I need you sane.”

“Notice I still have the option to be drunk instead.”  Evie remarked, causing all these people to start laughing.

Maker, it was nice to laugh for once in this craziness.


	18. Falling (Evie Flashback)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Radioactive" performed by Pentatonix and Lindsey Stirling (Original by Imagine Dragon) Remember to check out the story's playlist on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/thejeeperswife/playlist/33hH0hu16yb7cK8zvg7J8B?si=F75KkGbdQvaaxF17UDX5Bg) and [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLw4onCkm8zQYvVH2M9BYFNHioDDObJhby). Subscribe to keep up-to-date!
> 
> Evie's Flashback 3 of 4 Chapters. It's a long one too! Enjoy this high-action suspenseful chapter! Evie the Hero!

Esme tossed his now empty foldable Rivaini food carton towards the open kitchen, not caring about the bits of curry sauce splattering everywhere and his plastic fork skidded across the hardwood.  With the trash no longer in direct sight, he took a few long swigs from sixth beer until it too was empty.  He stared into the bottle, puzzled why there was no ale left.  His buzzing mind forgot how much he was drinking while Evie talked, drank, and ate.

“You’re going to get to meeting him, right?”  The younger brother mumbled, his light brown eyes demonstrated his disdain for how long the tale was and his now lack of lager to get through it all.  His eyes only broke from the glass bottle confusion when his phone blinked a few times.  He huffed and ignored the text notifications.  Evie was too far away to see from who.  Probably from their parents or a security alert at Inquisition Coalition.  Even during a political crisis, Esme would focus on her alone, not caring if the world burned around them.  Maker, she did not deserve such a loving brother.

“Impatient are you, especially since _you_ wanted to know everything?”  Evie offered the freshly opened mead bottle to her brother, while placing an empty solo cup from their beer pong last month by her knee.  “And to answer your question, yes now actually.  Thus why I told you to get the mead when you re-nuked your rice.  “This is the _first_ time I met him.”

Esme eyed his sister closely, waving just a finger to the solo cup.  “How can you meet a guy multiple times in a weekend?  I figured you were just joking about encountering him now versus back then.”

Evie huffed once with a smirk.  “Our first meeting was more unconventional than even the second.  At least the current introduction was not some serendipity and spurred by Rian’s demands to protect me.  Even then, the seeker would call it all providence.  Ugh…”  The musician rolled her eyes at that thought.  Evie hated the idea of not having control over her own life.  Still, everything was too coincidental for even her scientific mind to dismiss as probability. 

The drunk woman poured the fermented honey wine into her brother’s cup, then her own.  She put down the bottle between then, then just stared the dark gold mead reflecting her long and crestfallen face.  Her bright green eyes were still swollen from hours of crying alone or holding the sorrow inward.  All the courage and willpower the singer possessed went to lift that cup.  She toasted her brother with just a rim tip, then slowly brought it to her lips. 

The smell alone brought her back years.  Her heart and stomach both lurched and soared at the scent. Evie had not drank mead since that weekend six years ago.  Honey had never been her favorite flavor, but she consumed it like his kisses and roars that weekend, his ecstasy moans demonstrating why he held such a codename.  How women did he fuck for it, she wondered.  Afterward the fallout, she barred herself from consuming honey wine again, but had grown to use honey in everything, especially tea.  It was both a reminder of her vows and punishment to never falling into such a situation again.

“How’s that?”  Esme asked, while watching his sister take a tentative sip from her cup. 

Evie could not mask the memories washing over her as the wine burned her mouth and throat to mix with her spicy Rivaini food and tequila bubbling in her acidic stomach.  She lowered the vessel from her pink lips and stared at the iconic color.  To torture her more, her amber teardrop pendant was reflected in the liquid.  The story just explained all her little reminders of how Cullen Rutherford left his mark on her heart and soul all those years ago, while still molding her daily life now.

It was all just like that moment.

“He saved my life.”

Esme perked up, his eyes wide.  “What?  Like he saves your life one moment and leaves you to die the next?!”  His bass voice wavered as his mind tried to wrap around the irony.

Evie found everything ironic right then when put in those few words.  “Very close.  By saving my life then, he left to me nearly dying.”

Esme blinked a few times and shook his head a few times.  He crossed his legs and leaned forward to where his sister still sat on the dais.  “Explain.”

 

* * *

 

**_Friday Morning, Justinian 19:37 Online_ **

Evie stood in front of the former Tethras mansion with a gapping mouth and deflated expression.  In her right hand was the red lyrium sample ready to return to the Amell Mansion after her initial sight investigation.  She really did not want it on her person when reporting to duty by the destroyed Chantry.  The other hand contained the mansion key and a hand-drawn map of the interior.  A red X denoted where Hawke and Varric found the red shard after Bartrand’s death.

Why did Evie wear such a conflicted expression?  Her brown eyes remained fixed on the front door still standing strong after two weeks of death and destruction.  Unfortunately, it was the only sturdy part of the entire three-story building.  For nailed to the front door was a “condemned” sign displaying the Templar Order seal.

“Fuck.”  Evie appreciated that cuss word was so versatile and distinctive in Dwarvan Common.  It noted all of Evie’s emotions and frustrations in a single word that would take a full book to illustrate otherwise.

What could she do now?  The geologist took a huge long exhale and centered herself.  Evie desperately needed inside and investigate the hidden safe that housed the shard for three years.  Based on her analysis overnight, it could explain red lyrium altered crystallization shapes and sedimentary development if left to grow in specific conditions.  She feared if there were trace amounts inside the safe just as what occurred in her machines that early morning, her greatest fears regarding the substance will be reality.

Maker, Evie prayed she was wrong.  She prayed that there was nothing left in that safe to induce growth.  While Hawke and Varric assured her that there was no other crystals inside the container, that did not mean something had not grown since boarding up the mansion and desperately trying to sell it at a cheap price.

Alas, from what Carver and Isabela told her late last night after opening a third tequila bottle, people believed the old mansion was haunted and demonic.  While everyone knew a scary, broody elf lived down the street in an old Tevinter magister’s mansion, few people stated they were dreadfully afraid of that specific mansion.  On the other hand, Varric’s family house became the setting of many urban legends and ghost stories, most of which were established in the last few years.  Even now standing on its front walk by the rumble sidewalk of Hightown, most surrounding people gave it a wide berth and whispered to each other about how this strange woman gazed at it front door without screaming and seizing.

One word stuck out to Evie, her observant and inquisitive mind hard at work:  paranoia.  Throughout history, when there something unexplained occurring, people made up stories to rationalize such strangeness.  Those stories become extreme tall tales and even Chantry doctrine.  Her mind immediately pointed at the Chantry’s ages-long explanation for the Blight and the establishment of Circles.  Fear and the unexplained grows into the legends, especially ghosts and demons while science has not reached a point to give a simple rational reason.  It did not surprise her the people passing by were paranoid about this strange house and its once owner.  If red lyrium still existed there, then it only fueled that hysteria, which only feeds into the bombastic stories.  The cycles continues until all out insanity spreads.

And Evie wanted to enter such a place?!

For the last twenty-four hours, Evie questioned her own sanity.  First, she fled her childhood home, broked almost all mage regulations set for ages, and believed the cesspool of mage-templar conflicts was a sanctuary.  That alone might qualify her for the funny farm styping a straight jacket.  Secondly, the mage lived through one of most pivotal traumatic terrorist events this age caused by someone she somewhat knew and slept with consensually.  Continuing, she blamed herself for many tragedies since arriving in Kirkwall and not acting sooner to prevent those circumstances.  Lastly, red lyrium has been her close companion for half that time, coming closer to it than most people to understand its properties.  In her own hand held a raw shard with properties that utilized being’s irrational and aggressive part to the brain to induce psychosis and seek harm on one’s self and others.  Was this even a good idea?  Was this material and the maddening world pushing her towards her own mental breakdown?

The geologist mentally thanked Knotts and Hemingway for teaching her techniques to retain her sanity as a child.  They were meant for circumstances if Evie had been kidnapped and subjected to torture or worse.  Those methods saved her life in the Circle when her cousins enjoyed beating and tormenting her any time Rian was in not around.  Throughout the night before, she revisited the techniques, while Varric’s warnings about the strange lyrium haunted her as she attempted to sleep.  Alas, healthy rest in a real comfy bed alluded her, making instant coffee and a few shots of tequila her only true companions to rise with the dawn.

However, Evie recognized red lyrium exposure was not her only concern at the moment.  Just as she wondered if Kirkwall’s resident urban legends stemmed from raw red lyrium dust left inside the mansion before her, she was dealing with her own deep-seated terror of templars.  A quick eye flick to her sports watch denoted she had two hours before she was required to meet the dreaded knight-captain of the Gallows to begin her geology survey and assistance.  If she just received her documentation yesterday, did this officer even know she was reporting or did he still not have contact with his superiors at the White Spire? 

The hand holding the key tapped the geologist’s cargo pocket.  The Divine’s unforgeable encrypted seal and authorization papers were always on her person since Philliam handed them over yesterday.  Still, she panicked and barely contained vomit when passing Chantry patrols even now.  After hiding a month from these deadly knights and under their watchful eye for most of her life, it was extremely difficult to switch off the paranoia every mage held deep within their spirit.

How many of these knights have been corrupted like Meredith, Evie thought observing a templar squadron turning the corner towards the old Chantry square still covered in debris and rumble.  Had the Carta figured out how to grow this dangerous substance or is this a local problem?  Did someone within the Order or Kirkwall taint the current blue lyrium supplies so the knights were more addicted and under its effects even now?  No lyrium shipments arrived since the explosion.  How much of it was left?  If not enough that means they were on rations, thus more aggressive than normal as their addiction ate and nagged them day and night.  How much of those rations contained red lyrium and how much in each dosage?  Will they still their hands when she presents herself or will she be cut down immediately seeing all mages like Anders?

“Focus, Evie…”  The geologist couched herself slowing her quick breathing and trembling.  She had to have a little faith even in a few knights that once worshiped Meredith. 

Hawke’s merry crew were present during the hostage situation.  Apparently, this current knight-captain stood with Hawke against his commanding officer.  The man finally broke and recognized his commander’s insanity.  It was a little too late Evie believed after nearly a decade of tyranny, but still somewhat brave nonetheless.  Templars were trained to never question orders.  The loss of lyrium constantly hung over their head like a tempting iron anvil on a string.  Rationing reminded them all what might happen if they fall out of line.  Deny doing what you are told and you might have your lyrium cut in half or worse thrown from the Order all together. 

Any seedy part of a city in southern Thedas contained a few lyrium addictions, most of which former knights who will do practically anything for their next fix.  Even worse, if a person passed their local loitering spot when that latest fix was unobtainable, it was not surprising to see them dead with flies buzzing about and never given a proper funeral.  The Chantry and their disowning family just leaves them to rot like a race horse taken behind the barn after a broken leg. 

Maker, Evie saw such threats used against Rian when he was a knight-lieutenant by his knight-captain.  Luckily, that captain was thrown out of the Circle by the reigning knight-commander after the man was caught raping a mage, and Rian replaced him.  That was why Evie saw templars victims in the cruelty just as mages with the Chantry holding all the blame.  That opinion lost her Anders’ friendship and likely saved her life.  Thus even in such a stressful hostage situation, that knight-captain standing against—of all people—Meredith “Psychotic” Stennard, the wicked bitch of the Templar Order, was a badass move.

And now he was in charge.

That alone buried all reluctance within Evie.

It was then her searching chocolate brown eyes caught movement down a side alley beside the condemned mansion.  Evie tilted her head to the side, wishing a passing summer cloud blew by to provide some extra light.  Two beings shifted and jogged around corners towards the back of the house.  Evie stepped forward, her attention focused on the beings turning the back corner sooner than possible.  Both beings disappeared from view.

A few swift steps down the alley forced the mage to bob and weave around trash and rumble.  Her chocolate brown eyes caught sight of a single window overlooking the alley above her head.  A few move stealthy strides answered Evie’s puzzlement.  Towards the back half of the building, a large crack weaved up the side opening the mansion all the way to the third floor.  Her ears attuned to the alley’s echoes acting like a speaker.  She froze about five paces from the large crack, noting it was quite slim.  Even her flexible body could not wiggle through the opening but it was wide enough to destabilize the surrounding supports.

But a child could easily slip in and out.

“ _Did you get some food?”_

_“Waited in line for over two hours for just some canned peaches and hardtack.”_

_“Delltash!  That won’t feed us and the girls.  Can we steal some like last time?”_

_“I doubt it.  Templars guard the foodstores now.  They won’t even give any to elven adults.  It was a Chantry lay sister that gave me this!”_

_“We’ll think of something.”_

Evie stepped back slowly avoiding any pebbles that might prematurely alert the children of her presence.  Elven children were using the building as a home.  She learned from Merrill that the Alienage was nearly leveled by debris.  The pseudo-earthquake caused by the Chantry explosion rocked improperly built homes, then the flying debris from the mountain top acted like bowling balls and steam rolled the destabilized buildings to nothing.  The elven population had nowhere to go.  Many people were still trapped in their homes after two weeks with help unlikely to arrive in time.  Many children were now orphans and left to fend for themselves.  All attention remained on Hightown where the wealthy lived, leaving Darktown and the Alienage residents high and dry.  No wonder these likely orphans took refuge in an abandoned home left to essentially rot for years.  Most people avoided it, so were unlikely to investigate if loitering elves inhabited the space despite it being condemned by the Order. 

The geologist analyzed the mansion’s first floor and foundation.  Her nose scrunched as her grimace grew.  Her hand followed the stone and plaster fissures swimming up from below ground.  She consulted her map.  This mansion included a cellar, which Evie could easily see through the growing cracks.  If the cellar has been compromised or even a single foundation support slipped, it is only a matter of time before the whole building collapsed in on itself.

Evie had to get those kids out of there.  Merrill will know where they can stay or someone who will safeguard their safety.  Will they even trust her to help?  She was a “shem” after all, but maybe her broken Elvhen and audible vocal concern will convince them.  They might even know of Merrill and Hawke.  The Alienage appreciated both mages after assisting that neighborhood throughout the years.

Knowing her mission, Evie dashed back down the alley towards the front door.  She hopped and skipped over rumble, trash, and forage debris along the way, only stepping over such obstacles when she walked down the alley.  Now, it was serious situation to get those children out of the house.  Fast.

It all felt surreal as the geologist skidded around the corner towards the mansion’s front porch.  The red lyrium shard swayed on its handle lid as she ran towards the locked door.  She believed in her soul she was supposed to be there at that moment.  Evie mentally prayed since the explosion to be able to do _something_ to atone for her sins.  In normal circumstances, Evie would fear for herself while trying to be a hero.  Self-preservation was always on a person’s mind, selfish but normal nonetheless.  However, she felt nothing deep inside.  Fate was not a normal word in her vocabulary, but if the Maker with all his faults sent her on this quest to save His children, then she can maybe add that cursed word to her twisted life, if she survived this feat.

Reaching the door, the researcher shoved the hand-drawn map into her back pocket and carbineered the red lyrium case to her shoulder straps on her shirt.  The leather loop was actually meant for a clip lamp or multi-tool while spelunking, thus why her shirt sagged downwards and exposed her white razor back tank top.  Evie shoved it over her left shoulder blade to get it out of her way.  She hastily shoved the key in the lock and turned the knob.

The front door did not budge a millimeter.

Evie’s limited architecture knowledge washed across her mind.  When a building is just a little compromised, the weight of the building flexes one direction, usually making doors on that specific wall inaccessible because the door frame is supporting more weight from above.  Her brown eyes scanned the frame and noticed the bent and warped boards and metal.  With a right shoulder shove, the front door barely dislodged, praying maybe it would swing open.  The mansion groaned at the gesture.  That meant the building was leaning over the crowded street behind her.  This was now this was a crisis.

“Someone call the templars!”  The geologist hollered down the sidewalk, catching the attention of a few people walking in the morning sunshine.  “This building is going to collapse!  There are children inside!”  Instantly, their summer grins shifted to horror as people jumped into action.  People on the block’s far-reaches raced and started shouting towards the Chantry square.  Any available beings on the street quickly formed a barrier for people to avoid the three-story building.  Evie thanked herself for not mentioning that the children were elves.  The prejudice nobles would have likely not cared then and gone about their day.

Also, did she just _request_ the knights?

Maybe Evie _had_ been too close to this shard for far too long.

“Ma’am, step away!”  A city policeman called running down the sidewalk from another alley.

“It’s okay.  I am geologist, sent by the Chantry to assist in such situations.”  Evie explained as he approached.  Right then, another loud groan echoed around them as a new fissure climbed the front of the beginning.  “I have to find where the children are inside the building.  I saw a first floor window down the alley boarded up.  Do you have something that can crow them out of the way?”

The policeman nodded.  “An axe with a wedge on the back.  It’s in my car around the corner.”

“Great!  Go get it.  I am going to call for the children through an open crack down the alley.  That’s where I saw them enter before.”

“Understood!”

The policeman and Evie separated with the mage racing back down the alley.  Her mind scrabbled through her elven knowledge to find a phrase that might get her point across.  She will use Common too just in case the children lacked knowing their culture’s language.  She hopped over the obstacles again, passing the boarded window on her right.  She noted the glass was already broken, so once the planks were removed, she would need to worry about sharp glass.  To prepare for the future, she tossed some trashcans, crates, and other stable debris under it so she could climb up.

Satisfied with her makeshift climbing debris, the geologist jogged to the small crack towards the back of the mansion.  Maker, she hoped she was remembering this right.  “ _Aneth ara, me halani!  Tel’eth!_   Children, the building is not safe.  It’s about to collapse!”

“ _Ghilas, shem!_   Leave us alone!”

Another moan echoed down the alley.  A young child’s scream rang from inside the mansion.  One of the boys tried to sooth the little girl.

“You have to leave now!  I am a geologist!  I know Merrill from the Alienage!  She can help you with food and shelter!  Please!  Her friend, Veronica Hawke, is the Champion and will help all!  You must have heard their names one way or another!”

“M-Merrill?  S-she with you?”

“Sadly, no, but there is no time for me to run and find her.  Please, come to the left side window on the first floor.”  Evie glanced down the alley and saw the policeman approaching with the axe.  She pointed at the entrance.  “That window!  The one with all the crates in front of it.”

The mage raced back down the alley to meet the cop.  She jumped up her makeshift ladder, barely keeping her balance.  Thankfully, years of dancing and playing the violin assisted her in finding her feet again.  The cop handled her the axe and waited for the boards to pull free.

“Where are the templars!?”

“I hear from the crowd a squadron from the main camp are coming as soon as possible.”  The policeman replied watching as Evie shoved the axe’s pick side slide under the bottom board and wrench away from the wall.  His eyes widen at the strength Evie established at the moment.  Adrenaline, fear, and years of flexing in the Circle gymnasium explained her suddenly superhuman abilities at the moment.  In her mind, she kept chanting she cannot let these young children die, another sin blooding her hands. 

Another failure to the people of Kirkwall.

A new creak and a major snap echoed around the two adults.  All the children inside scream and cried at the sound.  Evie’s fear went into overdrive.  That was a major support beam.  “Fuck!”  Right then the first board flew off the mansion.  Evie’s quaking hands worked on the second.  The first attached side quickly dispatched with a few cuss words, she should have enough space to crawl through.  “Keep taking them off until the templars arrive.  I’ll climb through and get the children.”

“Ma’am, that’s not wise!”

“This is nothing compared with Dusttown shanties.  Just like graduate school!”

The second board went flying with a final _fuck_ , her word of the day.  She flipped the red lyrium case to her bicep so it would slide through the window cleanly.  There was no time to snap it off her shirt.  By now, it had twisted with her sleeve and collar.  Besides, there was no way she was going to leave with the cop or hide it now.  The templars will immediately forget the kids and arrest her on the spot if they even smell it.  “Lift me up!”

The policeman’s hand gripped her boot as her other foot laid against the plaster wall.  With a count of three, the other man’s strength hoisted her up until her stomach laid on the windowsill.  Bit of glass still lingered, tearing her shirt around the arms, but luckily not her stomach or abdomen.  With a few more kicks against the wall, Evie squeezed threw and rolled over the kitchen sink and granite counter.

Several screams alerted Evie that the children were nearby, but not in the open kitchen as she requested before.  Another creak beneath her made her freeze.   She was not a heavy person, but just her presence tested the building’s fleeting abilities.  Like a cat, she slowly climbed to her feet and spread her weight evenly to avoid a single heavy position.  Suddenly, she understood how Esme fell through the family lake while ice-skating when she was at home for a Satinalia visit. 

Evie’s attention flickered to the refrigerator to her left in the open kitchen and dining area.  A support beam that typically held up the second floor utilized the appliance to keep the upper floors in place.  Her brown eyes glanced at the floor.  Fissures and cracks throughout the tile noted the fridge was moments away from break under the weight and falling through to the cellar below.

So, the building had two ways of collapsing:  over the street or inward into the cellar.

Fucking great.

With light and selective long steps, Evie left the delicate kitchen into the main hall and living space.  “ _Aneth ara?”_

“Up here!”

Evie slowly pivoted on her left leather boot.  High above her was a great staircase leading a pair of double doors left open.  A large expansive room laid bare, likely the master bedroom.  In the doorway was the two elven boys and a pair of young girls, barely more than toddlers. 

“Lady!  Lady!  She saved us before, Gethrel!  You can trust her!”

Evie’s chocolate brown eyes widen.  She knew these little frighten girls.  She just saved weeks before.  They lost their mother to head trauma fleeing that bastard rapist!  Maker, Evie hoped she murdered that fucker now.  Once again, those poor babies were in danger.  If Evie died saving them, she would not even care.  ‘Modest in temper, Bold in deed’ all the way.  A true Trevelyan at heart.  If the other Trevelyans want to call her a bastard after this…well, they probably would even if Evie saved the Divine herself.  At least maybe the Maker will forgive her for her stupidity and arrogance at His Golden City’s gates.  Suddenly, the mage no longer trembled or panicked.  Her mind was clear on what she needed to do.

The geologist worked fast.  The staircase had caved in to the cellar after the living area’s chandelier fell from the ceiling.  What remained of the once grand steps were the latest sets of groans and breaks echoing throughout the expansive rooms.  Some wood planks and furniture laid nearby.  She shoved the moldy ornate long couch towards the staircase and tipped it over on its side.  She placed a few wood planks on the last supported stairs up the caved in area.  Lastly, she tipped the couch over until it laid facing down across the wood planks and blanketed almost all the hole.

“Okay, kids!”  Evie hollered, waving to the children trapped above.  “This is what we will do:  one at a time, climb down the couch towards me okay?  Boy, girl, girl, boy, understand?”

“We’ll fall through!”  One of the boys hollered from the open bedroom doors.

“I won’t let that happened!  I promise!  I’m not leaving until you all are safe!”  Evie assured again trying to wipe the wariness from her Marcher lilt.  Another moan and snap echoed throughout the expansive hall.  Evie’s ears rang like a Chantry tower bell was hit by her head in a tiny room.  “I made an exit by the kitchen side window.  A policeman is waiting just below.  I will take you to Merrill myself!”

“Why should we believe you, shem!?  We’re starving!  Your people killed our families!”  The boy hissed back at the mage.

“That may be true, but I will not harm you!  On my life, I will make sure you are well!”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

The other boy called out.  “Pinky promise!?”

Evie held up her left pinky, shoving the red lyrium container back over her shoulder.  “Pinky swear on my life and wear the sun don’t shine!”  Thank you, apprentices, for teaching her _that_ one.

“O-okay…”

The children slowly crawled to their feet.  The house moaned with the shifting weight as the children approached the staircase.  The first few stairs down were still existing.  The older boy about the age of nine approached first.  His blond hair stuck out in all directions while his face was muddy from weeks living in the hellscape.  He was likely the one who was the most wary of her.

“What’s your name?”  Evie asked with a smile.

“Gethrel...”

“Well, Gethrel, I’m Evie.  I’m right here.  Slow and steady, okay?”  Evie slowed her breathing as the kid climbed up the couch arm, over the side, and tight-roped on his tiny bony legs down the flat side of the couch.  The wood planks creaked under his weight, but held.  With a few seconds, he was at Evie’s side.  “Very good!  Now, I need you to do me a favor.  Walk softly to the kitchen window and let the policeman know you all are coming out in a second.  Stay as far away from the refrigerator as possible.  Wait until your friends join you.  They’ll need your help getting down.  You understand?”  The boy nodded.  “Thank you, Gethrel.  You’re _very_ brave!”

“Thanks!”  With that, the boy tiptoed away towards the kitchen.  Under his weight, the mansion barely moved.  “I will be waiting and holding you to that promise!”

Evie pointed to the youngest girl, only three years old.  Tears streamed down her white cheeks with her small pigtails barely held her fluffed hair in place.  “Fern,”  Thank goodness Evie remembered their names.  “I know you don’t walk well.  I carried you last time, remember?  Crawl on all fours down the couch, okay?  I will be right here waiting for you.”

The toddler just nodded, snuffling as the other boy helped her up the couch.  Her descent took a great deal longer.  She kept stopping as the creaks and moans frightened her.  Evie reached out her hands as close as possible.  When the toddler was within reach, the mage reached out and took her skinny bicep, pulling her the rest of the way. 

The toddler grabbed Evie like a vice and bawled into her right shoulder.  “I gotcha, lil’ one.  You’re going to okay.”  The geologist went to put her down, but the little girl screamed.  “Fern, I cannot help your sister and friend holding you.  Keep hold of my leg instead?”  The toddler nodded, allowing Evie to set the little elven girl at her feet.  “You next, Angie!”

The second girl, about six years old with bright red curly hair, shook her head and refused to let go of the other boy about a year older.  “No!  I-I can’t!”

“You will be just fine!  I’m right here.  Fern is with me!”  Evie pleaded.   Maker, where were those damn templars!?  Maybe she have said a mage was there just to press them.

“Come down with me, Angie!”  The boy suggested approaching the couch.

Evie stilled.  She did not know if the couch and plank could hold both of their weights.  Before Evie could say something, both children climbed up and over on the couch.  The planks snapped and cracked under the combined weight.  “One at a time.  Angie first, and your name…?”

“Seren!”

“You follow behind like a train caboose.  Angie is the engine and you’re the caboose.  Walk on all fours _very_ softly and slowly.  Like a cat.”  Evie encouraged.  Luckily, the two remaining children followed that order clearly.  Fern hugging her leg meowed at the word ‘cat.’  Her sister replied with her own meow.  Evie echoed the animal sound, giving the two descending children something to focus on as they competed on who could sound more like a feline.

_Snap!_

Both children stilled.  Angie was a third away from Evie’s outstretched arms with Seren was only half way down the couch.  Both their glossy eyes glanced at Evie petrified.

_Crack!  Snap!_

“Run!”  Evie screamed as the couch slowly fell down into the hole.  Angie jumped down and rolled on the floor beside Evie, while Seren reached with both arms and hands for Evie.  Evie lurched forward and caught the young boy’s left arm as the couch fell into the cellar below.  Seren hung onto Evie’s hand, crying and kicking like a wild monkey.  “Seren, stop kicking!  I’ll pull you up!  Hang on!”  Even on her knees pulling with both arms, it took a few deep tugs to get Seren over the edge and to safety.  Both the boy and Evie fell backwards into the expansive living space.  All three children tackled her crying and shaking.

Task One down.

How many more…?

“Okay.  Just a little more.  Stand up slowly and take each other’s hands.”  Evie requested watching the last bits of courage flow through the elven children to do as she encouraged.  With Fern’s grip leaving her side, Evie climbed to her feet.  The whole floor moaned and cracked beneath their feet.  “Like little sneaky mice, keep ahold of my hand and follow my feet.”  The elven children complied.  Evie stepped first to the fay wall, away from the weaker open area.  Floor supports were strong against exterior walls even as compromised as they were now.  “Keep your back to the wall and follow.”  The train of children followed her instructions perfectly as their tears streamed down their faces.

About ten feet from turning into the kitchen, Gethrel’s head peaked out smiling.  “The police are waiting, Evie!”

“Okay.  We’ll be right there.  Once we reach the kitchen, one at a time by age, I will lower you down.  Gethrel, I need you to be strong as I lower them down and wait with the others.”  The young boy smiled and gave a thumbs up before walking back towards the window.  He forgot about the fridge and passed by it closer than Evie liked.  Another loud crack vibrated through the whole building.  Evie winced.

Once her elven train reached the kitchen, the geologist ordered Gethrel back with the other children at the corner to avoid too much weight by the refrigerator.  Fern was in her arms as she gave the appliance a wide berth.  She placed the toddler on the sink counter by the window and glanced out.  Several policemen and a few templars stood in the alley waiting.  They had laid a blanket over the remaining glass.

“I will hand them down one at a time.  The refrigerator is holding up the floor above.  The main support for the cellar is missing.  The house is more likely to collapse inward than over the street, but avoid the front door.”

A red-headed police officer waved mid way back from the gathering rescuers.  Her strong facial features and command over everyone around her demonstrated she was in charge.  “Templars are already setting support beams to the front to avoid the collapse that direction.  “Their engineer stated the door is solid.”

“Still too risky.  These kids are top priority first.”  Evie advised.  She smiled at Fern.  “You ready, little one?”  Fern nodded.  “Okay.  Up you go!”  Evie lifted Fern under her arms and lowered her feet out the window.  A templar waited with his riot gauntlet hands and took the young elven girl from her grasp.

The mage’s attention immediately shifted to the next child inside.  “Angie, you next.  Follow the cabinets to my position.”  The six year old did as she was told thankfully.  Her courage was stronger now after being so close to safety.  Like before, Evie lifted the elven girl to the counter.  Her flabby Circle arms protested under all her heavy lifting, while the red shard container made the whole procedure extremely difficult.  She could not wait to get rid of the blasted thing. 

“Child number two!”  Again, Evie lifted and had Angie put her feet out the window.  This time, a police officer took the child from her grasp.”

“Two more to go.”

When Evie glanced back at the boys, both had their arms crossed.  “Where’s Merrill?”

Evie kept herself from exhaling too loudly in frustration.  “I will escort you to First Merrill as soon as you are outside.  I promised, didn’t I?”

“You don’t know Merrill, do you?!”

“I know Merrill!  She is staying at the Amell Mansion on the other side of Hightown.”  Evie explained, exhaustion starting to make her dizzy.  “Please!  This house is about to fall!”

“My name is Captain Aveline Vallen-Hendyr of the Kirkwall Police Department!”  The red-headed police officer called from the alley.  “I work with Champion Hawke and Merrill!  Please believe us!  We mean you no harm!”

Evie thanked the Maker the legendary “Muscles” was out there at that moment.

That was enough for the boys.  Unfortunately, both walked into the kitchen at the same time.  The room beneath them all snapped and cracked.  “Fuck!”  Evie’s eyes flashed to the fridge.  It sank into the floor, one corner already in the cellar, while it tilted to the right.  “Hurry!”  Evie yelled at the boys.  Seren raced into her arms, while Gethrel jumped on the counter under his own bouncy strength.

In a flash, Evie lowered the younger boy down to the templars and police officers.  “Clear out the alley!  The house is going to go!”

Any remaining cops and templars ran down the lane, while Aveline remained with a templar.  The knight took the boy and raced to safety.  Eve stood back and allowed Gethrel towards the window.  The boy jumped into Aveline, nearly knocking the police captain over.  Right with his jump, the refrigerator fell, bringing down the second floor with it.  Evie dove out of the kitchen and into the living space.  The whole floor where she was standing disappeared into the basement below.  The living room’s first floor now bowed and sloped under her weight as more supports snapped and broke under the building’s weight.

“Ma’am!”  Aveline called from the alley.

“Get them out of there!”  Evie hollered back, jumping to her feet.

“Get to the front door!”  The captain hollered before the window cracked and smashed closed.

Evie did not need to be told twice, stumbling up the slope as the masonry and stone fell away from above.  Thank the Maker for gripping steel towed leather boots, she reached the top and thundered towards the front hallway.  She dodged and weaved around the falling supports as the top two floors slowly crumbled around her.  Down the main hall, she could see and hear people working at the front door.  However, it was still not open.  The whole door frame was almost smashed in two as the floors above compressed the first floor like a coil.

Death was imminent.

The geologist never imagined the end would be like this, something out of an action movie or television show, but there she was.  There was no escaping as she stumbled on the cracking floor.  Everything in her life, her agility and strength, lyrium and geological understanding, and basic architecture led to this moment so that she could save those children.  If the arranged marriage, meeting Anders then the Hawke gang, and mage-templar conflicts drove her to Kirkwall to do this one thing, she could accept it.  It meant her mounding sins had a purpose.  Just paces from the front door with no exit and stone falling around her, she accepted death.  She accepted fate-

-“Watch out!”

Bright light blinded Evie as the front door swung open with a forceful kick and a large mass flew out at her, pushing her away as large part of the ceiling fell away almost on her head.  She felt like she was floating on a cloud falling backwards.  It should have not taken so long to land, but felt like seconds ticked by as the world’s sounds fell away.  Strong arms embraced her in that fall like a warm blanket.  Musk, sweat, oakmoss, and elderflower filled her nostrils as all light disappeared from her vision.

What a lovely scent.

Blackness and _stabbing_ _agony_ were the last thoughts thundering through her consciousness as her final gasp was pushed out of her lungs under the weight of a three-story mansion.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Common Ground](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15384486) by [thejeeperswife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejeeperswife/pseuds/thejeeperswife)




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